Only the Devil Laughed
by xahra99
Summary: Nothing is real:everything is permitted. You can let an enemy live, but it often isn't a good idea. Borgia seeks his revenge. Post-game. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

Only the Devil Laughed

An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99

_Chapter One._

_Roma, 1499._

_Leonardo should be here,_ Ezio thought as he limped through the narrow streets of Trastevere. _He's the only man who could make sense of this. _

But Ezio had more immediate concerns than the visions he had seen under the Vatican. The dark silk of his doublet masked the stain of his wound well enough, but there was too much blood. He could-and often _had_-treated cuts and broken bones himself, but this went beyond his knowledge.

_And Leonardo's one of the few men I'd trust to treat a stomach wound_.

The clashing of armour chimed from the streets behind Ezio. He clasped his left hand across his belly to stem the bleeding and ran on, pain jolting through him with every step.

_I could do with your help, my friend_, he whispered to Leonardo as he went. Leonardo, being in Milan, did not reply.

The Creedallowed most acts; it was permitted to let an enemy live, but Ezio was beginning to think that it was not a good idea. The man who had been Rodrigo Borgia and was now Pope Alexander VI would never forgive Ezio for defeating him. Ezio had gambled that he would be able to escape the Vatican before the Spaniard gathered his wits enough to call for aid.

He had been wrong.

And now his body begged for healing even as his mind begged for answers. The power of the Eden fragment had lent Ezio strength for so long...but even its power had waned after a while. Ezio had hidden both globe and staff; marking the spot carefully so he would be able to find it again. He had thought to flee across the Ponte Sant'Angelo, but the bastard had cordoned off the bridges.

_And I am in no shape to run across the rooftops_, he thought ruefully.

It seemed certain that he would be captured; even more certain that Borgia should not get his hands on the artifacts. The secret chamber of the Vatican had revealed itself only to the Assassin, but there were other chambers, he felt sure. Other artifacts, too.

The pain made it difficult to think. Ezio pulled a vial from his pouch and swallowed it, wondering all the time if it would not be better simply to swig poison and get it over with. Rosa had pressed the _theriac_ on him before he left Venice. Leonardo had scoffed at the brew and called it useless folk medicine, but it was all he had.

He needed more than the potion. He needed a miracle.

As he skidded around a corner, he found a doctor instead. He nearly ran straight past before he noticed him-the monkish robes that the man wore blended into the dark streets. Only his long-beaked white mask stood out.

The doctor himself jumped as Ezio skidded to a halt in front of him. _Unsurprising_, the Assassin thought. _I must appear like a demon from a shadow play; clad in black and streaked with blood_.

"I need help."

The doctor's mask hid his expression well. "I have poultices," he offered. "Herbs?"

When Ezio shook his head he asked "Do you need bleeding?"

Bleeding. _Dio mio_, hadn't he bled enough already? Ezio glanced around, praying the mask deafened the doctor's ears to any signs of pursuit. "Inside. Quick." He was gambling that this doctor had a rented room just as his old friend Giovanni had in Firenze, somewhere to deal with more serious injuries. When the terse order failed to produce any assistance, he pulled out a purse of florins from his doublet and placed it in the doctor's hand. There was a jingle of coins as the doctor assessed the pouch's weight, a second chime (as if he couldn't believe his luck) and then assistance. "Certainly. This way."

The doctor's consulting-chamber was a small room that looked as if it doubled as a shop during the daytime. A rough trestle table served as examining room and, from the stains, operating theatre.

"What ails you?"

Ezio gestured at his side. The doctor lit a lamp, peering closely. Cold finger's prodded at Ezio's abdomen, followed by the hissing sound of indrawn air; such as a smith would employ before telling a man exactly what he had done to his armor that would make it so expensive to repair, and exactly how much it was going to cost him. Finally the doctor drew away. "Sword wound? That'll need cauterizing, then."

"_Cazzo_! I need a doctor. Not some idiot whose idea of medicine is boiling tar."

"What would you suggest I use? I trained at Bologna, and I tell you that boiling oil is the way to deal with such things."

"I don't care where you trained!" _Murderers and thieves_, da Vinci had said often of surgeons, and Ezio had to admit that once again, Leonardo had turned out to be right. 'Do you have egg yolks? Oil of roses? Turpentine?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Mix them together and apply it to the wound."

"_Va bene_," the doctor muttered. "But it won't work."

Ezio smiled wolfishly. "Then I promise not to haunt you should I fail to survive."

The doctor snorted and began to mix the ingredients. Ezio looked around the shop. The lamplight was treacly and dim. Shadows crept in every corner of the room. The air smelt of blood, heavy and sweet. Not all of it was his. The scent and the thick chopping block that leant against the apothecary's table implied that the shop was used by a butcher by day.

_At least, I hope so. _Ezio thought as he unbuckled the straps that held on his chest guard. Leather skidded between his blood-slicked fingers and the mail hit the floor with a crash.

The doctor looked up from his mixing in surprise. He held a pestle upraised in his hand. Glutinous liquid dripped from the head of the pestle. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"You can't apply a poultice under mail."

"I told you not to move. You'll open up the wound." The doctor hurried across and picked up the armor. He whistled at the weight. "Good stuff."

"A family heirloom."

"Keep still or your sons may receive their inheritance sooner than expected." The doctor lit another candle and placed it on the table. He leaned forwards so closely that the beak of his mask almost touched the wound and poked at Ezio's stomach.

"_Figlio di puttana_! Be careful!"

The doctor shrugged. He reached up to the ties that attached his mask and unknotted the silk ribbon. "You are no plague victim," he said by way of explanation."Unless the sores have changed their nature since I saw them last." He was shaved bald underneath the mask, with a gaunt face that looked like a starved pony. He frowned as he examined the wound a second time. "They taught me in Bologna never to accept a case I thought would not live."

Ezio shifted. Pain made him short-tempered. "Just do your damn job."

The doctor shrugged again and lit a candle. He anchored it to the back of the chair with melted wax. "I wash my hands of this."

'As long as you wash." Ezio remembered Leonardo had said once that dirt as well as bad odors caused disease. He mentioned this to the doctor, who grunted.

"Everyone knows that disease is caused by an imbalance of the humors, notwithstanding God's holy will. And since you will not let me bleed you..."

Ezio's faith had never been robust. It had been further shaken by the mysterious messenger underneath the Vatican. "So God's will caused a sword wound?"

"_Immorality_," the doctor said pointedly, as he used a pair of sharp scissors to cut the strings of Ezio's doublet, "is another cause of sickness." He wadded up a length of clean cotton and spread the poultice on the top layer. "Keep still."

The poultice was undoubtedly more comfortable than the boiling oil which the doctor had recommended, but it was not a pleasant experience. By the time it was bandaged securely in place, Ezio had nearly exhausted his supply of curse words and was busy thinking of unpleasant ways to execute the Spaniard, should he ever meet Borgia again.

Finally the doctor stepped back, wiping his hands upon his apron. "Finished." He held out a flask. "Willow leaf extract. For the pain."

The liquid tasted like swamp water. Ezio was tempted to ask for laudanum instead, but he needed to be alert. "Why didn't you give me this before, _cazzo_?"

The doctor shrugged. He wiped his forehead with a sweaty hand. "Some hold that heavenly reward can only be gained by earthly suffering."

"Then it's unfortunate for you that I'm injured." Ezio snapped. He tugged his shirt together and reached for his armor. "Or you'd ascend in a moment."

The doctor held up a hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving."

"You are in no state to travel." The doctor cleared up bowls and bottles efficiently. "I'll give you lodgings in my house for the night. You can be on your way in the morning."

"Why?" Ezio slid off the table. The bandages tightened against his stomach, but they held. The adrenaline had drained from his muscles, leaving him weak and dizzy. He felt sick.

There was compassion in the doctor's face. "I am curious, God forgive me. I want to see if you're still alive in the morning."

"I'll do my best."

"So you'll accept?"

Ezio considered the alternatives. There were none. "It seems advisable. Your name?"

The doctor held out his hand. "Alvise da Ferrara,"

Ezio shook the proffered palm and wiped his hand on his robe. "My name is Ezio. I wish we had met in better circumstances." He picked up his armor despite the doctor's protests. The pain bit deep, but he could walk.

"Feeling better?"

"No." Ezio said shortly.

"You are lucky to be alive. If the blade hadn't glanced off your rib..." Da Ferrara sliced a palm across his throat in illustration. 'You would already be singing with the angels."

_Or burning in hell_, Ezio thought. "Is your house far?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not far." He looked at Ezio speculatively, as if he suspected he might drop dead on the spot. "Where did you learn that technique? Unless I am much mistaken, you are no doctor."

"A friend."

"Mmm. Did this friend know of any more remedies?"

"Moldy bread also works well, he told me. But only it's the right type of mould."

"Hm. I shall have to experiment." The doctor turned down a narrow street. "This is it," he said. "_Mi casa es su casa_. It's not a palazzo, but..."

He was right. It was far from a palazzo. The house sagged like a drunk. It was low-roofed with two storeys. There were holes in the thatch. The windows were of oiled hide rather than glass. All together, Ezio had slept in far worse.

The doctor lifted the latch. The door sagged and he had to use one boot to shove it open. Ezio followed, but da Ferrara halted him on the threshold. "Take off your weapons, please. I have a child."

"A child?"

"A daughter." The doctor was apologetic. "I have a chest, inside. They will be safe. I don't want to scare her. She has had...bad experiences. With guards."

Ezio nearly turned and walked away right then, but the sound of steel sabatons on the muddy streets stopped him. "Agreed."

Despite the house's shabby exterior appearance, inside it was a typical middle-class city home. The floor was strewn with fresh rushes. There was a table, with chairs, and a large fireplace built from narrow red bricks. The chest turned out to be a dowry _cassone,_ full of linen. The doctor spread a blanket on top of the sheets before he placed Ezio's sword and daggers on top. He closed and locked the chest, placing the key in Ezio's hand. "Satisfied?"

"More than that. Grateful."

There was a soft movement at the top of the stairs. A woman appeared, holding a child of roughly twelve years by one hand and a candle in the other. "Alvise? I heard the noise, and I thought...Who is this?"

"A guest, Giovanna. No, a patient. He will not stay long." He turned to Ezio."My wife, Giovanna. And my daughter, Filippa."

Ezio managed a short bow. "Madonna."

The lady-no more than a girl, really, blushed. The child was less polite. 'Who are you?"

Alvise frowned. "Filippa! Our guest is ill, and does not wish to be disturbed. Go back to bed. "He exchanged a quick glance with his wife. Ezio translated it as _the guest is unknown, and may possibly be dangerous._

Giovanna shooed the child upstairs. Alvise waited long enough to make Ezio wonder if the invitation had been revoked before he beckoned Ezio up the stairs. There was no sign of either his wife or child as he showed the Assassin to a tiny room tucked high up in the eaves above the first floor. The only piece of furniture was a sagging rope bed. It looked like it had not been used in a while. A small wax-paper window let in some light.

"In case you need them." Da Ferrara said as he handed Ezio another small bundle of willow leaves."_Dormire bene_. Try not to die."

"I'll keep that in mind." Ezio muttered. He sat on the bed and tried to plan ahead. He had already decided that he would be gone before da Ferrara came to wake him. He had no wish to bring the city guards down upon this gentle family. Although he hoped that the soldiers would become less alert with time, there was still the chance he could be captured before he could reach a pigeon-coop.

_I need a messenger._

The door creaked open. Ezio had expected Alvise. Instead he was presented with a dandelion-like mop of very blond, very curly hair. Alvise's daughter. Filippa. She hung onto the door and watched Ezio with eyes as round as coins.

Ezio liked children. Indeed, he had a child. But that was another story-and right now, another life.

"Your father told you not to visit me," he said.

The child's shrug was a miniature version of her father's gesture.

Ezio dug in his belt-pouch. "Would you like to earn a florin?"

Another shrug, which eagerly transformed itself into a nod as Ezio held up a coin. The Assassin leant forwards, trying not to wince. "I need you to look after something for me." He bent down further, cursing under his breath, and traced the Medici emblem of six balls on a shield in the dust that caked the floorboards. "You must find a pigeon coop with this painted upon its door. Once you've found it, catch a pigeon." He drew out a scrap of paper from his belt. "Tie this around its leg. It's a game. You must not be caught. Understand?" He pointed at the crest again. "Only this pattern. Nothing else. _Capisci quello che sto dicendo_?"

The child nodded fiercely.

"Can you talk?"

She nodded again. Her whisper was so soft Ezio had to strain his ears to hear it. "_Si_." She stretched out her hand. Ezio placed the paper in her palm and she was gone, slipping out the door so swiftly that he barely saw her move.

Ezio exhaled. He lowered himself to the bed and watched the early dawn light redden the rafters as he chewed on the leaves the doctor had left him. For all he tried to stay awake in case the wretched doctor tried to bleed him, he felt himself slipping towards sleep. He placed the florin on the foot of the bed to remind him to reward the child once she returned and closed his eyes.

He woke to the strong bright light of noon and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. At first, drugged by sleep and pain, he thought the sound to be the child returning, but the noise was too loud.

_Soldiers._

"_Affanculo_!" Ezio's hand went to his sword-hilt. The only thing he found was the key to the linen- chest. The coin had vanished from the foot of the bed where he had laid it. By the time the door slammed open he had pulled the paper covering off the window and thrown himself out of the tiny opening into the brightness beyond.

Author's notes:

UPDATE! I HAVE FANART! by the lovely caroline parkinson

Chapter one art 'he threw himself out of the tiny opening into the darkness beyond' is posted on my livejournal under the name xahra99

..

This is a sequel to my previous AC2 fics; 'As the Sparks Fly Upward' and 'This Course of Fortune,' but it should be able to stand alone.

Set immediately post-game. I have problems with characters being given major injuries and then continuing on as if nothing has happened. This is a fic fix. The Renaissance medical stuff is as close as I can get it to real life, although the timeline is a little skewed. Oil of roses, eggs, and turpentine were used by Ambroise Pare in the 16th century to treat battle wounds when he ran out of boiling oil. It worked because turpentine is an antiseptic. Fun fact: it wasn't until 1847 that a doctor discovered that deaths from septicemia in childbirth were much more common in mothers attended by students who had _gone straight from the dissecting theatre to the obstetrical wards without washing their hands _and made the connection between hand-washing and disease. But never mind.

I have adopted the game's use of Rather Unnecessary Italian Phrases. Most of them are swear words. I don't speak Italian, so if any reader who does notices a mistake, please let me know


	2. Chapter 2

Only the Devil Laughed

An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99

_Chapter Two._

The first thing Ezio saw once the bright lights in his vision cleared was soldiers. Most of them had surprised expressions on their faces.

_Doubtless they are bemused at their quarry falling so providently from the sky_.

Ezio was in no condition to fight. The drop had been high enough that he would have been shaken even if he had been in peak condition, and there had been no convenient hay-cart to break his fall. He braced his left arm across his belly and weighed up the situation.

There were so many soldiers he was surprised he hadn't landed on one.

He stretched his right arm out and flexed the fingers, ready to grab. "_Provaci se ne hai il corragio_, you bastards."

He heard a man's voice raised above the clamor, hoarse with triumph. "The fucker can't climb now. We've got him, boys."

_I am the same age now as my father was when he died_. Ezio thought.

"Give up!" somebody called hopefully from the back of the crush.

Ezio gritted his teeth. "Go to hell."

The fight lasted five seconds. Ezio ducked under the first soldier's guard and broke his nose with the heel of his hand. He grabbed for the man's sword, but the _cretino_ had dropped it to clutch at his face. Ezio crouched down to pick up the weapon and somebody else hit him hard on the back of the head with the hilt of a blade.

When he'd come to his senses and blinked the blood from his eyes there was a sword-point at his throat and what felt like ten soldiers sitting on his back. There was a shout, and some of the pressure vanished. Somebody grabbed his hair and forced his head back. The men in front of him parted. A young man with a horsey face and captain's armor pushed his way to the front of the group. He looked down on Ezio and said, in an impossibly cultured voice. "How very disappointing. I would have thought you'd have lasted longer."

By way of an answer, Ezio threw up on the captain's shoes. It wasn't the most dignified reply but it _was _effective. The soldier gave him a disgusted look and beckoned to his men. "Tell the _Papa_ we have him. And _per amor di Dio_, clean this mess off my shoes."

They dragged him around to the front of the house. Ezio had hoped to catch sight of the family. He'd hoped to discover if Filippa had delivered his message. When they reached the street there was no sign of them.

He yelled "You know they're going to kill me now, Ferrara? _Ferrara_?"

Nobody looked outside. Ezio waited for a heartbeat before he tried again. "Are you going to bring your daughter to the hanging?"

One shutter creaked open. Ezio caught a glimpse of Filippa's face at the window before hands caught her and dragged her back. She saw Ezio watching, smiled for a brief second and held up her hand. A golden florin gleamed between her fingers.

_Glorificare Dio_, Ezio thought. _She has done it_.

"Shut up!" somebody grated.

Ezio did what he was told.

The guards took him over the river to the Castel Sant'Angelo. They were efficient, but not cruel, and they didn't slip up or give him the chance to get away.

Ezio was familiar with the Castel. He'd scaled its rough, ancient bricks before. An easy climb, as he remembered. The soldiers brought him to the inner courtyard, a wide open space that was mostly used for training or executions. A small forge had been set up against one wall. Smoke billowed from the heart, twisting up into the square of blue sky that gleamed above his head.

A man worked at the fire, soldering chains onto the wrists of a small man with the wide, wild eyes of a frightened horse. Flames flickered against the coved brickwork of the castle wall. The air stank of hot metal and sweat. The smith finished, nodded at a pair of guards who were lounging near the fire, and they hauled the man away. They disappeared through a low doorway and the smith turned to Ezio.

"Bring him here."

The soldiers shoved Ezio forwards. The smith measured his wrists and ankles with a strip of leather. He turned to a pile of chains behind him and selected two sets. One of the guards helped him close the heavy manacles around Ezio's feet and hands. They closed with a cold click. The smith checked the locks as if he did this every day-he probably did- and pronounced himself satisfied. The soldiers wrestled Ezio over to an anvil and held his hands still as the smith poured solder into the locks of the manacles, sealing them shut. The metal warmed to an uncomfortable temperature, but it did not burn. Ezio was thankful for small mercies. The guards had taken his armor and his doublet, and the thin sleeves of his shirt provided precious little padding.

The guards held him until the iron had cooled to blood heat. The smith wandered over for an inspection. "He'll do," he said, and turned back to his forge.

One of the soldiers flicked a finger. "_Avante_."

They took him up the steep, spiraling ramp that led to the second floor. There were palatial apartments hidden high in the castle's great bulk, but Ezio's escort stopped at the cells on the second floor. They shoved him down a narrow corridor lit by smoky, guttering oil lamps.

"You know what they call this place?" the captain asked? "The Bocca del'Inferno. Welcome to Hell, assassin."

Ezio shook his head tiredly. The building was cold, with the damp chill that gathered in places that the sun never reached. Despite the clammy cold, he was sweating. The chains were heavy enough to weigh down a horse. Just another compliment. Another one he could have done without.

They stopped in front of a narrow door. The captain flicked a finger and one of the guards tugged it open. He held it wide with a mailed foot while they threw Ezio sprawling into the small dark room that yawned like a lion's throat. The floor was chill; the stone walls damp with moisture. Dim light shone through a tiny hole in the bottom of the door. It was abruptly extinguished as the guards left, taking the torch with them.

Ezio lay down on the wet stones and waited for Borgia to appear.

He waited a long time.

_Milan, 1499._

The list of errands was not long, but it had taken Leonardo most of the day to write it. It would have been much quicker if he hadn't paused every few minutes to doodle on the reverse of the parchment.

_Have 2 boxes made_, he wrote.

_Take the braziers from the Grazie._

_Get the Theatre of Verona from Giovanni Lombardi._

_Buy tablecloths and towels, caps and shoes, 4 pairs of hose, a chamois jerkin, and skins to make others._

_Remember Alessandro's lathe._

Leonardo sketched a decorative border around the right-hand border of the sheet. He abandoned the decoration before it was half-finished and added: _Sell what you cannot take with you_ with a flourish to the bottom of the parchment.

He sat in the centre of a litter of half-packed instruments, pigments, clothes, drawings and scraps of parchment. The packing was a work in progress.

Leonardo turned over the parchment again and began to sketch a rose.

There was a knock on the door.

Leonardo ignored it-he didn't particularly want to be distracted and besides, the packing was only half-complete. He added a stem to the rose, and some leaves. The knocking paused for a second and then redoubled. After a while Leonardo tucked the pencil into the pocket of his doublet, picked up a lamp and got up to answer the door.

He had expected one of his apprentices. Instead his lamp illuminated a slender, dark-haired woman in an ill-fitting dress. She had a determined set to her jaw. "You are Leonardo da Vinci?" She looked unimpressed.

"_Si_. What do you-"

But the woman had already pushed past him into his studio. "_Grazie a Dio_!" she said in a strong Venetian accent. "I worried that I would not reach you before you left!" She kicked the door closed and stepped around the piles of Leonardo's belongings.

Leonardo realized his mouth was open. "Who-"

"My name is Rosa. You must help me. I am a friend of Ezio's. He's been captured."

A thousand questions materialized in Leonardo's mind. "Where?"

"Roma." Rosa looked around, scowling. "_Dio_, you live like a pig."

Leonardo ignored her. "When did you hear about this?" He calculated travel times in his head. So many days for word to travel from Roma to Venezia; so many more for Rosa to reach his studio. "Three days ago? Maybe four?"

Rosa nodded. "He was caught in Trastevere three days ago. The Roma Thieves' Guild got a message to us. One of them saw Borgia's soldiers take him to the Castel Sant'Angelo. They say he's injured."

"Borgia?" When she looked at him quizzically Leonardo expounded, "It's all right. I know of Ezio's work."

She shook her head. "Alive."

Leonardo's heart sank. "Then Ezio's dead."

Rosa's dark eyes cut him to the soul. She shook her head angrily. "No. There's been no execution. No trial."

"Then there won't be one." Leonardo realized that he still held the list, now crumpled, in one hand. He set it upon his lap and mechanically smoothed out the creases. "Ezio's too dangerous. Borgia won't let him testify..." He trailed off.

Rosa looked stricken. "I thought...Even thieves get a trial! Everyone has the right to a trial. It's the _law_."

"I'm sorry." Leonardo wondered what Ezio meant to her. It had always dismayed him that Ezio showed no interest whatsoever in his own sex, instead pursuing women with the single-minded tenacity that was such an advantage in his work.

"_Vaffanculo_." She got up clumsily. "_Stupido_! I told him he'd get caught if he went alone!"

Leonardo stared into the shadows of the dim studio and listened to Rosa curse. His own heart was numb with shock. Ezio had been a good friend.

Rosa paced up and down the studio. She reached Leonardo and stared down at him angrily, dark eyebrows meeting in the centre. "Don't you care! _Porco Dio_!"

Leonardo's eyes stung with tears. "I'm sorry," he apologized."'I don't know...I don't know what he meant to you. But there is no way Borgia would have let him live."

Rosa spun and kicked a packing-case with enough force that it exploded into shards, spilling letters onto the wooden floor. "There is no point in me staying here," she said. "I must leave."

Leonardo glanced up at her tear-streaked face. "Stay. Milano's not safe after sunset. I will make up a pallet in the attic. You need not worry. I will not bother you."

"I am more than capable of looking after myself. And others will want to know this news." Rosa wiped a streak of moisture from her face with the heel of her hand.

"The streets are dangerous at night."

Rosa looked at him with contempt. "I want to be alone, Leonardo. Can you not understand that?" She spun again and stumbled over the mess towards the door. She struggled with the lock in silence for a few seconds before she wrenched it open and stepped out into the street. The door closed behind her with a very final slam.

Leonardo gritted his teeth against tears. The parchment with the rose fell to the floor, unnoticed. The letters Rosa had trampled sprawled out across the floor. The closest letter nearly touched his boots. Grateful for any distractions, Leonardo reached out and picked it up. From the look of the thing, it was part of some correspondence he'd received from Firenze the previous day. The paper was torn and creased; the wax seal chipped. In the dim light, Leonardo recognized the seal of the Medici.

Insofar as he was capable of feeling anything at that particular moment, Leonardo was surprised. The Medici had never been regular patrons. He had the distinct impression that _il Magnifico_ had always thought him too unreliable, too easily distracted. He slid a palette-knife under the seal.

The letter inside was short and to the point.

_From Giovanni de'Medici to Leonardo da Vinci, 20__th__ December, 1499._

_I believe we share a mutual acquaintance in Ezio Auditore, a close friend of my father's. _

_I recently received this letter by carrier-pigeon from Roma. It is, I believe, meant for you. I can only conclude that Signore Auditore could find no other way to communicate with you. The letter shows signs of being written in haste. In addition, I have recently received news that your friend is being held in the Castel Sant'Angelo in Roma under the orders of Rodrigo Borgia. _

_I dare not move against the Pope. As my hands are tied by the cords of diplomacy, I forward this information to you in the hope that you will have resource to less conventional methods of extraction._

_I would advise that you act swiftly. Borgia is not known for his restraint. _

_The letter is rather cryptic, but this, I believe, will pose no problem to a man such as yourself_.

Leonardo's heart leaped with hope. He shook the envelope and a second note fell out. _This_ one was a simple scrap of twisted paper.

It took him less than a minute to decipher the crude scrawl. A minute after _that_ he wrenched the door open and raced down the street; shouting at the top of his voice. "Rosa!"

She hadn't gone far. Leonardo recognized the spiky set of her shoulders before he had run far enough to get out of breath. "Rosa!" he shouted again.

She scowled at him. "_Merda_, what _now_?"

"Ezio's alive," he told her.

A grin of incredulous joy spread across Rosa's face. She threw her arms around his shoulders and embraced him right there in the street, devil take any onlookers.

"How do you know?" she asked him once they had returned to the privacy of his studio.

Leonardo held up the scrap of parchment. "He sent me a message."

"So? He could have sent it before he was killed." She snatched the paper from him and peered at Ezio's characteristic scrawl. "I can hardly read this. It certainly looks like his writing."

"I would know his hand anywhere," Leonardo told her. He pointed at a crude depiction of a ball on the left hand side of the paper. "This is the Piece of Eden." He cocked his head at her "Do you know about the artifacts?"

"Yes, yes, but hurry! Tell me what this means! If you have raised my hopes falsely I shall cut out your liver and feed it to the pigs."

"Borgia won't kill Ezio."

"Why not?"

"Because Ezio holds one of the Pieces of Eden, and Borgia wants the artifact. In fact," and he pointed at the paper, "if I am not very much mistaken, this is a second piece. It has the shape of the Pope's staff."

"That would explain a great deal." Rosa pointed out.

"Exactly. Ezio has hidden both pieces-"

"_Meraviglioso_! He'll make Ezio tell him where they are, and then he'll kill him." Rosa's face was grim. "We must rescue him. If there is enough left of him to be rescued. But if he's in the Castel Sant'Angelo, it will be difficult."

"Very. But the Eden pieces are incredibly powerful."

"Powerful enough to break a man out of the Castel Sant'Angelo?"

"Certainly."

Rosa's shoulders slumped. "So we can break Ezio out, but not without the artifacts," she said. "And we don't know where they are until we've spoken to Ezio."

"No need." Leonardo said. "He's told me where. We have to find them. Quickly. Before Borgia does."

Author's Notes:

I HAVE MORE FANART!

The artwork for chapter two, 'I can hardly read this. It certainly looks like his writing' by caroline parkinson, is on my livejournal under the name xahra99 at

.

A rough translation of _Provaci se ne hai il corragio_ is 'Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough.'

The list Leonardo is writing is an actual list found in his papers: the mention of the theatre refers to some scenery.

Lorenzo de'Medici died in 1492. Giovanni was his second son.


	3. Chapter 3

_Only the Devil Laughed_

_An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99_

_Chapter Three._

_Castel Sant'Angelo, 1499._

The first sign that the soldiers were approaching was the faint glow at the hole in the bottom of the door. A few seconds later the sound of mailed boots on flagstones echoed along the narrow passageway and then the door was flung open.

They took Ezio from the cell and marched him along the corridor to the great spiral ramp. When they reached it they turned right, heading upwards rather than downwards to the courtyard as he had expected. The ramp ended in a narrow square lined in herringbone brick. Ezio blinked owlishly in the sunlight as one of the guards unlocked a heavy wooden door that was rather nicer than any he had seen so far. "Where are you taking me?"

"Just walk," a soldier growled.

Ezio shrugged. He had a pretty good idea where they were headed. When the guards pushed open another door and shoved him into a narrow, richly furnished room with unparalleled views over the river and the Vatican, he was sure of it. As they entered, the crimson robes of cardinals parted like the red sea to display the Pope.

Borgia stood with his hands behind his back, studying the view. He wore a red velvet cape over his embroidered robe. Dark patches of sweat marked his sleeves. He turned around and smiled at Ezio. It was the sort of smile that belonged on the face of a second-hand horse dealer. "Welcome, Assassin." Only Ezio heard the capital letter on the last word.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance."

_"Vai in culo._" Ezio replied.

There was a collective intake of breath from the cardinals. The guard holding Ezio punched him in the small of the back with a mailed fist. Ezio's knees buckled. He sagged to the floor. The Pope waited patiently until they had dragged him upright again. He crossed himself. "_In nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti._ I forgive you, my son."

The hypocrisy was so thick Ezio almost choked on it. The assembled cardinals crossed themselves, impressed at this sudden display of benevolence. Ezio guessed that that was the whole point of the exercise. The Vatican mission had been too _obvious_, too high-profile. There was no way Borgia could have concealed the whole episode.

He raised his head painfully. "You're a fake, Borgia." He knew nothing he said would be believed, but he said it anyway. "You told me you didn't believe in such superstitious practices. That your faith was a lie. You're just in it for the pow-" He gasped as the guard behind him did something painful to his arms. "-Power. Just the power."

Borgia held up a hand to halt the guard. "Let him speak." He stepped forwards. ""I _have_ power. I am the Pope. Why I would want more?"

"You're a Templar." Ezio said bluntly. The assembled cardinals exchanged bemused glances.

The Pope smiled. "The Templars are dead and gone," he said. "I am a holy man."

"You don't even believe in the power of God. To Templars, there are only men with power and those without." Ezio knew that he was playing into the Pope's hands, but he couldn't stop himself. "You killed so many people, just for power. You killed my family."

The Pope looked around. He spread his arms theatrically. "You see? This man is insane. A family sickness. Why, his very father once told me that I would die with an Assassin's blade in my throat."

"There's still time, Borgia." Ezio snarled.

The Pope nodded. This time the guard was less gentle. Ezio spat blood from between bruised lips.

"Please try to be careful," the Pope said reprovingly. "That carpet was rather expensive, after all." He clapped his hands. "Enough of this. Let us move on with the proceedings."

A cardinal stepped forwards. He cleared his throat. His nose twitched. He produced a white handkerchief and waved it in front of his nose. It masked, but didn't hide, the expression of distaste upon his face.

"Ezio Auditore da Firenze."

Ezio raised his head.

"I am Cardinal Lorenzo Campeggio. We have all heard of your crimes. Now I ask you; do you confess to the attempted murder of His Holiness Alexander the Sixth?"

Ezio listened with the detached air of a man who knew that nothing he could say would save him. "Yes. But he is not a holy man," he added.

Campeggio frowned. "Do you confess to the murders of..." he consulted the paper again, "eighteen cardinals of high standing?"

"_Che cazzo stai dicendo_? I have killed nobody who didn't deserve it."

The cardinal winced at the profanity. "If you did not, who did?"

Borgia winked, and Ezio knew why the Pope had ben so long in visiting him. He'd been eliminating the witnesses. He jerked his chin in the direction of the Pope. "He did."

"Why on earth would the Pope do such a thing?" Campeggio frowned, shocked out of formality.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try, my son."

"They were witnesses. They saw him steal the Apple from me. Saw him open the Vault."

'The Vault?"

"There is a secret vault beneath _il Vaticano_. Go and look for it if you don't believe me."

The cardinal glanced uncertainly at the Borgia, who shrugged and stepped forwards. He came within arm's reach of Ezio and looked around at the cardinals. "You heard this man. He is insane." He stepped closer to address the Assassin. "Even if those poor men's deaths meant nothing to you, repent and you shall be cleansed of your sins in the next life." He took one final step closer and hissed in Ezio's ear, softly enough that only he could hear. "You will burn in hell. Just like your family."

Ezio nutted him.

He realized even as he did it that it wasn't the smartest move, but it was worth it just to see Borgia stagger back, blood streaming from his nose. The guards punched him to the floor and hauled him upright with a blade at his throat. Borgia's blood dripped from his chin, and Ezio laughed. "Get it over with, Templar." He spat on the floor. "Finish this mockery. Kill me if you must, but don't bore me anymore. I confess to it all. The murder of so many men must have slipped my mind."

Borgia swung around to face him, teeth bared in a decidedly un-papal snarl. Drops of blood spattered the carpet.

"We have a confession," the cardinal said quickly... "That is enough." He turned to Ezio. "Do you repent?"

"The only thing I regret is not killing that _bastardo_ when I had the chance." Ezio snarled.

Borgia smiled. His smile was no longer the smile of a second-hand horse dealer. It was a grin of pure malevolence. "This man is insane." He wiped blood from his nose with the sleeve of his robe.

"If sanity is measured by my desire to kill you, Borgia, I am the only sane man in this room."

"You see?"The Pope turned to the cardinals. "Ezio Auditore da Firenze. You have confessed to your crimes in front of witnesses. You are hereby sentenced to death. You will be imprisoned until the time of your execution in the Castel Sant'Angelo. _Va bene_, my son. May God have mercy on your soul."

"Why don't you kill me now?" Ezio asked. Judging from the stunned silence, this did not seem to be a normal response. "I'll tell you. You want the Apple. You are a fake and a liar." He turned to the cardinals. "And you are all fools for believing in him."

Borgia waved his hand. "Vaults, now apples...I grow tired of this man's ranting. Take him away."

The guards obeyed.

Ezio's eyes did not leave Borgia's until the guards had dragged him from the room. Most of the cardinals ignored him, as if he was beneath even their notice, except one. Campeggio stared after him with a worried expression on his face.

"Ask him about the Eden fragments," Ezio called as the guards hauled him down the staircase. "Ask him about the cryp--" He broke off as one of the guards kicked him. Free, Ezio would have dodged the blow easily, but the chains hampered his movement and wrapped themselves painfully around his legs. He went down in a crash of ironwork. Dimly he heard the captain's voice drift over his head. "I told you to shut up."

Ezio got painfully to his feet. He said nothing else as the guards escorted him down the ramp and along the narrow passageway that led to his cell. They shoved him in and left him alone, taking the light with them.

After he had heard their footsteps die away Ezio got to his feet. He paced four strides to the back wall, then four strides the other way, trying to move without the chains rattling. You never knew when such a skill would come in useful. He hadn't given up. Not by a long shot. If the worst came to the worst-well, he had a son to carry on the line, and the artifacts were safe enough for now.

He had almost mastered moving quietly when the door of his cell was unlocked and opened again.

They took him to a small room on the same level. It was stone-walled, like his cell, lit by a single brazier. There was a chair in the centre of the room and a low arched door on the opposite side. They had not waited long when a door opened in the shadows of the arch and Borgia walked in. He had changed from his papal robes into a simple shirt and doublet such as any man might wear. There were no cardinals here, and no carpet.

"Ezio," he asked pleasantly. "Where is the Apple?"

Ezio matched the man's triumphant smile. "I don't know," he said.

_Roma, 1500._

"Will you just _hurry_?" Rosa tapped her foot. "_Avanti_! You are slow as a snail."

Leonardo kicked his horse into a trot. He winced as his muscles protested at even the small movement. They had been travelling for four days with barely a rest. After deciphering Ezio's message, he had paid a porter to finish his packing and ridden out with Rosa the same day. "There is no point in exhausting the horses," he pointed out.

"Bah! They are as fresh as daisies. And we are almost there." Rosa snapped her head around to glare at him. Her eyes were dark with worry and exhaustion.

"By my calculations, we have nearly three hours to go before we reach Roma." Leonardo told her.

"Curse your calculations. We shall be there much sooner."

Leonardo reviewed his mental arithmetic. _If a horse trots at eight miles an hour_, he thought, _and the last way marker we passed marked Roma as thirty- two miles distant, then my calculations are correct._

Rosa interrupted his musings. "If you had not brought so much paper the journey would have been quicker."

"My sketchbooks are necessary for my work." Leonardo said mildly. "I have designed a device for opening up a prison by means of a giant winch. This may come in handy."

Rosa looked interested for the first time. "Is it small enough to be smuggled into Sant'Angelo, maybe in a laundrywoman's basket?"

Leonardo admitted that it was probably not.

"Your head is as full as ideas as a cheese is full of holes! And most of them are useless!"

They passed the rest of the journey in silence and arrived at the city gates three hours later. Leonardo refrained from drawing Rosa's attention to the fact.

The guards eyed them suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"My name is Leonardo da Vinci. This is my ...associate, Rosa."

Rosa nodded tightly. "Stop looking at my tits,' she told the guard."_Che cazzo_!"

The guard scowled. "Charmed, I'm sure." He turned his attention back to Leonardo. "I think I've heard of you. Why are you here?"

"Um," Leonardo said. He hadn't been to Roma in years. "I'm here to view the tapestries."

The guard looked bemused. "Tapestries?"

"Churches." Leonardo said quickly. "Paintings. Sculptures. Artifacts. Processions." He waved one hand. "Objects of that sort."

The guard shrugged. "There's no accounting for taste." He waved them through. "Shouldn't be a bad time to visit, if you're interested in that sort of thing. And Signore da Vinci?"

Leonardo nodded without really listening.

"While you're here, I suggest you find yourself a more polite whore."

"I am no whore, _porca puttana_." Rosa glared at him.

"Well_, I_ wouldn't pay you."

Rosa spat a curse. She kicked her horse forwards. It trotted through the gateway, forcing the guard to jump out of the way. Leonardo followed. He heard the guard swearing from behind them as he brushed the mud from his armor.

They found a cheap inn near the Vatican and stabled their horses. Leonardo negotiated a pair of rooms, and they met in the stable yard after a hasty meal. Rosa had changed into a boy's outfit. It suited her far better than her skirts ever had. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To the Ponte Sant'Angelo."Leonardo adjusted the fit of a long easel-case he'd brought to conceal the artifacts.

Rosa looked at Leonardo incredulously. "That's crazy."

"Nevertheless." Leonardo checked the pouch in which he had secreted Ezio's note. "That is where the artifacts are."

"You're crazy. _He's_ crazy. _Vaffanculo!_ Nobody sane would hide something near so many guards."

"Exactly." Leonardo headed towards the glint of water. He had visited Roma only once, and that was many years ago, but it was not a difficult place to find your way around. "_You just have to find the river..._"he muttered, underneath his breath.

Rosa frowned. "What?"

"Nothing."

They reached the Arno a few minutes later. Rosa hung over the parapets, gazing at the rippling water below. When she had subjected the river to intense scrutiny she shaded her eyes and looked over the rooftops. 'What's that?"

Leonardo looked at her, surprised. "St Paul's. The Vatican. You've never travelled?"

"Why travel? I have all I need in Venezia." She studied the building carefully as they walked. "It looks large. And expensive."

"It is."

"You know this place? You've been here before?" At his nod she slapped him on the shoulder. Her grip had the force of a man's. Leonardo staggered. "Then tell me something I don't know about that building, artist. Something interesting."

Leonardo searched his memory. "Um. There's a rumor that it has one of the largest libraries of pornography in the world."

Rosa frowned. "But they're priests," she pointed out.

"Yes. Um. It's not true, anyway. They have a few drawings, I'm told, but nothing extensive. But it makes a good story."

"It does." Rosa smirked. "That's a pity. If it was true, we'd know what Ezio was doing in Rome before he tried to kill the Pope."She did not sound disapproving.

_It is a pity the man has a blind spot when it comes to members of his own sex_. Leonardo thought ruefully. He changed the subject as they rounded the curve of the Arno and saw a crowd gathered on the bank. "What's that?"

The sound of lutes, cornets and tambourines drifted over the water. Rosa cocked her head, "It's a parade. What are they celebrating?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

They drew closer. Rosa hovered protectively at Leonardo's shoulder. Her head snapped from side to side as she kept a wary watch for pickpockets. "At least it will distract people from our destination," she said optimistically, glaring at a small boy who hesitated for a second too long beside Leonardo's belt pouch.

Leonardo jumped onto the corner of a horse trough to get a better look. But the crowd was too thick for him to see the Castel Sant'Angelo, and his shoes slipped on the wet stone. He fell painfully, elbowing a woman in the shoulder and earning a scornful glance from Rosa. "Let me do the climbing," she snapped.

Leonardo flushed. He found a slightly more secure position and propped himself up on the trough so he could get a good view of the spectacle. He saw almost immediately that there was no point cutting round. The crush was everywhere. They'd have to wait until the crowd dispersed.

_I must make a device_, he thought, _lit by braziers, with colored glass over them, to indicate when the road was clear and one could cross_. He fumbled for his notebook as the first horse pranced by at a stately trot.

Rosa hissed between her teeth. "_Borgia_."

Startled, Leonardo looked up. "Rodrigo?"Instead of the stout, bearded man he was expecting, he saw a dark man dressed in steel and velvet. A flag bearing the Borgia red bull flew above his head

"Cesare," Rosa spat.

Leonardo nodded. He'd heard the name before.

The woman who Leonardo had assaulted earlier pushed forwards to get a better look. "He's on his way to the Vatican," she said chattily. "They're making him Captain of the Church_._"

Leonardo frowned. He'd heard of the younger Borgia's reputation for capricious viciousness. He had to admit that the man certainly looked the part. He resembled the dark knight from a tale. His armor was tinted black, the same color as his clothes, and his hawkish nose and pencil-thin moustache reinforced the impression of slightly louche cruelty. He was surrounded by a retinue of mercenaries who wore the Borgia family crest of a red bull. The soldiers encircled a carriage whose coats of arms had been scrawled out with black paint and painted over with a crude representation of the same animal. There was a flicker of movement at the windows, but no face appeared.

Rosa frowned. She sidled up to Leonardo and watched the carriage vanish into the crowded streets. Cesare's escort passed with much fanfare and clashing of armor, and then the streets began to empty. Leonardo slipped down from the horse-trough and made his way across the square.

"Is it far?" Rosa asked.

Leonardo pointed at the four-pillar bridge that stretched across the river in front of them. Its reflection hung perfectly in the still water below it, detailed enough that Leonardo could make out the mirror images of the condemned criminals whose bodies hung from the bridge reflected in the water. "That's it."

They reached the bridge a few minutes later and wandered across it like sightseers. Leonardo studied its corpses with anatomical interest, noting the curve of an exposed jawbone, the ropy, dried muscles of a man's calf. Rosa was more practical.

"Not him. Not him. Not him. Hmm..." She studied one corpse. "No, not him either." She followed Leonardo as he dodged a rosary-seller and came to rest, like a fish drawn by the tides, against the travertine marble plinth of one of the statues that decorated the bridge. He muttered "_In aerumna mea dum configitur spina,_" under his breath.

"Where is it?" Rosa asked impatiently.

Leonardo looked up at the marble face of an angel with a crown of thorns. "It's here," he said.

"Here?' Rosa stared at the angel as if its mouth would open and speak the location of the artifacts.

Leonardo unrolled the scrap of parchment. He pointed at the scrawled sketch of an orb and staff, and then at a Latin phrase scribbled on the left-hand side of the paper. He held the parchment up to the inscription on the base of the statue. The two matched.

"Where is it? I cannot see it."

Leonardo peered over the balustrade. The Arno's chilly waters rippled below them. He brushed a fly from his face. "It must be underneath."

Rosa came to stand beside him. "Hand me the bag."

She took the easel-case from Leonardo, glanced both ways, and slipped over the side of the bridge. He heard scuffling sounds from underneath his feet. The Castel Sant'Angelo squatted on the opposite bank of the river. The statue of a sword-wielding Saint Michael that stood on its ramparts looked threatening rather that beautiful. Leonardo regarded the building warily. He could see soldiers on the battlements, but they didn't seem to be taking much notice. "Have you got it?" he whispered down to her.

There was no reply. Somebody tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around, instantly on the defensive, praying Rosa did not suddenly appear.

A thin man thrust a handful of grubby wooden beads under his nose. "Rosary?"

Leonardo shook his head. The vendor was more persistent. "It's cheap."

"I'm sorry, but no." Leonardo backed up, rotating until the salesman had his own back to the balustrade of the bridge. If Rosa did appear, the chances were the man wouldn't see her.

The man spat. "Thought business'd be good, what with the parade," he said reflectively. "Those Borgias, though, they're bad for trade."

Leonardo could not fault him there. He stared over the man's shoulder but saw nothing.

"Lucky, though," the salesman said. "That bastard just captured the Tiger of Forli."

Leonardo wondered if he'd heard correctly. "Pardon?" he asked. He'd known Forli was under siege, but he'd never thought the town would fall so quickly. Caterina Sforza had held her castle successfully against the Orsis only two years previously.

The rosary-seller spat and slid his hand under his grubby shirt to scratch his chest. "Didn't you see the parade? Lady in the carriage? That was Caterina Sforza."

Leonardo's heart sank. 'What of her family?" he questioned desperately. "There were children."

The salesman shrugged.

'I'll buy a rosary," Leonardo bargained. He drew a florin from his purse. The salesman's eyes went instantly to the coin. "The kids are in Firenze with the Medici," he said without taking his eyes from the florin."I heard that Lorenzo, _il Magnifico's_ cousin-that-was, I heard he's personally taken custody of the youngest boy. Bit strange, that, if you ask me. You'd have thought he'd want to keep him with his family."

Leonardo hardly heard him. "Thank God," he breathed. He shoved the florin into the salesman's grubby hand and moved away to stand against the base of the statue. He thought for a second that the man would follow him, but the satisfied hawker wandered off to accost a well-heeled Roman couple out for an afternoon stroll.

There was a scuffling noise. Rosa reappeared, brandishing the bag like a scepter. She slipped over the balustrade and turned to Leonardo, 'What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Leonardo shook himself and turned to her. "Did you find them?"

Rosa nodded. She unlaced the bag a fraction so Leonardo could peer in. He saw a round, golden object and the unmistakable shape of the pastoral staff. Both objects were caked in pigeon shit. "We have it.' She dug down into the bag. 'But there's one thing I don't understand."

Leonardo was surprised it was only one thing. He himself had felt like he was treading deep water since he'd received Ezio's message. "What?"

Rosa pulled out a tubular leather object. She dug around and produced a second one. Leonardo was not expecting them, and so it took him a few seconds before he recognized Ezio's greaves, adapted for combat by the addition of hidden blades.

Rosa frowned." Why would Ezio hide his daggers?"

Leonardo hurriedly replaced both objects in the bag. "This is bad," he said conversationally, tugging at Rosa's sleeve. "Let's get back. We need to make sure the artifacts are safe."

"I just-_Dio mio_! Ezio would never leave those weapons. He told me once his father left them to him. Unless..." she paused. 'Unless he thought he was going to die. Unless he intended to leave them to his descendants. But that doesn't make sense. He hasn't got any." She studied Leonardo's expression. "Has he?"

Leonardo said nothing.

"He _has_?"

"People are beginning to stare." Leonardo said levelly. He grabbed Rosa's sleeve and dragged her into a walk. She shook his hand away, but she followed.

"Who _with_?" she hissed.

Leonardo sighed. 'While I was waiting for you on the bridge," he said. "I talked to a man who told me about Cesare's victory. He's captured Forli, Rosa. The Lady Caterina Sforza was in that carriage we saw."

"What does this have to do with-?"

"Listen. It's important. The man told me her children are safe in Firenze. With the Medici."

Rosa frowned. "Do you know the Sforza woman?"

Leonardo shook his head. "I've never met her."

"Then why do you even care about her? About her children? What does this have to do with Ezio?"

Leonardo sighed. He patted the linen bag at his side and turned to face Rosa. "Because Giovanni, Caterina's youngest son," he told her, "isn't Caterina's husband's at all. He's Ezio's."

Author's Notes:

I HAVE MORE FANART!

Chapter three illustration: 'Borgia swung around to face him, teeth bared in a decidedly un-papal snarl' is posted on my livejournal; xahra99

and linked to by .

_Vai in culo_; the equivalent of 'Fuck off'

_Che cazzo stai dicendo_: 'What the fuck are you talking about_?'_

Leonardo da Vinci did really design a device for escaping from prison that worked by ripping bars out of the window using a giant screw. There were statues on the Ponte Sant'Angelo in the fifteenth century, but the present ones weren't erected until 1669. Caterina Sforza was captured after the siege of Forli by Cesare Borgia, but she wasn't transferred to the Castel Sant'Angelo until later in the year. Her children stayed in Florence during her captivity but her youngest son, Giovanni (named after his father and coincidentally, also Ezio's) was looked after by Lorenzo de'Medici, the cousin of the Lorenzo de'Medici who featured in the game.


	4. Chapter 4

_Only the Devil Laughed_

_An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99_

_Chapter Four._

_Roma, 1500._

Rosa's scream could be heard across the bridge. "What?"

"Shush!" Leonardo hissed. He wished that he had not told her. There was a time and place for such revelations, and it was not in public, and not now, either.

"I can't believe it! Oh, I can believe he has a child. I just can't believe he didn't tell me."

"I believe he thought it was better if nobody knew," Leonardo said diplomatically.

"_You_ knew." Rosa said accusingly.

But Ezio hadn't told Leonardo about his son. He'd figured it out for himself.

They'd been sharing a jug of wine outside a dockside tavern in Venezia on one of Leonardo's now-rare visits to the city when the boat from Forli had arrived. Leonardo had recognized Caterina Sforza as she disembarked. He'd been painting another image of the Madonna and child at the time. Caterina had caught his attention precisely because of the baby in her arms. The child looked nothing like the lanky, primped Medici at her side.

"I guess she's the one that got away," he'd said idly to Ezio.

"Nobody gets away." Ezio said lazily. 'What d'you mean?"

Leonardo had pointed. "That's Caterina Sforza. Remember her? Your next conquest?"

He'd had the pleasure of watching Ezio's expression go completely blank as he noticed the lady and her child disembark.

"He doesn't look much like de'Medici."

"No." Ezio had regarded the baby with a thoughtful expression."He doesn't."

Caterina had seen then both watching. She smiled; a sad and mysterious smile. Leonardo's fingers itched for a sketchbook.

"Oh," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"That would explain the rumors."

"Yes_._"

Leonardo never mentioned it again, although he did use Caterina Sforza's smile in a painting, much later.

"I've got half a mind to let him rot!' Rosa snapped from his side.

Leonardo thought of a very simple explanation for her fury. "Did you-"

"No!"

Leonardo stopped himself just in time from saying '_Well, that makes two of us_.' "We have the artifacts," he said, changing the subject, and touched the long bag at his side. The staff inside felt warm underneath his fingers.

_Strange_, Leonardo thought.

They walked back to the inn in silence. Rosa fetched a pail of water from the kitchen to clean the Eden fragments. Leonardo went to work-she would not touch them-first with a soft sponge and then with a hog's hair paintbrush, until the Apple and the staff lay gleaming on the splintered boards of the inn floor.

Rosa regarded the objects with suspicious skepticism. "How are _these_ going to help us?"

"Ezio said they were powerful."

"They don't look powerful." Superstitiously, Rosa made the sign of the horns. "They look like they'd fetch a good price at a pawn-shop."

Leonardo wondered what Rosa saw. To his eyes the Eden fragments were beautiful: smooth, with deeply grooved patterns in the surface. He had never seen anything like them before. And Leonardo was a curious man.

He reached out for the staff.

"Do you really think that's wise? We don't know anything about-"

Leonardo's fingers closed around the cool metal.

The world around him dissolved into mist.

The first thing he saw when the fog cleared was two lean figures-a man and a woman- running lithely across an otherworldly landscape. They were naked. Bright lines intersected their skin. They raced across the featureless floor as if nothing at all were unusual about the scenery.

_Angels_, Leonardo thought. He realized his mistake as soon as the woman glanced fearfully over her shoulder. All-too human emotion was stamped across her lovely face. As if they ran from something terrible.

The man touched a featureless wall and it slid open with a mechanical smoothness. Leonardo knew he never would be able to replicate the movement if he lived to be a thousand.

The door opened to a hall filled with scaffolding, although this seemed to be metal rather than the wooden struts that Leonardo used in his work. The pair moved with poised grace. They jumped and twisted, scaling the obstacles with familiar motions. Leonardo recognized Ezio's prehensile strength mirrored in their bodies.

The figures reached the top of the scaffolding. They smashed a huge sheet of glass as clear as water and hauled themselves up the outside of a building. The structure looked nothing like anything Leonardo had ever seen. Inside, Leonardo glimpsed Hephaestian figures working at a forge. He felt a surge of recognition-it didn't seem too different from the forges of his day.

_Wait!_ he thought as his vision swung past the workmen to follow the running pair. Nobody heard him. The runners did not falter. They climbed up the glass like geckos and dragged themselves to the roof.

Another tantalizing glimpse of mountains and strange white buildings followed before the vision focused in on the humans.

The woman held up something. Leonardo was not surprized to see that it was an Eden fragment. "Adam! I have it!"

"Eve!" her partner cried in warning. The two figures turned at bay like wolves, silhouetted against a featureless blue sky.

"Look out!" the woman screamed, and flung an arm up to cover her head

"Leonardo!"

Leonardo ignored the voice. He strained to see more and caught a glimpse of dark shapes against the sun before the vision blurred like paint in water.

Somebody hit him across the jaw. "Wake up!"

Leonardo blinked. Rosa stood above him, one hand raised. She saw him wake and hastily replaced the hand on her hip.

"Did you _hit_ me?"

"_Dio!_ I thought you were dead and you complain about a little punch?" Rosa shook out the fingers of her right hand. "You were not moving. It was the only thing I could think of."

Leonardo raised his hand to cup his jaw. The staff had rolled away under the table. He picked up one of the clothes he had used to clean the artifacts and wrapped it around the handle before he retrieved it.

"It did not do that when I touched it, under the bridge." Rosa said curiously. She studied Leonardo. "What is it? What happened?"

"I saw...wonderful things." Leonardo said dazedly. Visions were reserved for saints, not painters, and anyway he was at a loss whether the strange encounter really could be described in such terms as heavenly or devilish. "I've seen the future." He remembered the woman Eve."Or maybe it was the past."

"What was it like?"

"It was like-" Leonardo paused, for once lost for words. "It was strange."

"Is it going to help us rescue Ezio?" Rosa hunkered down beside him.

"I don't think so." Leonardo rubbed at his jaw. He could feel the imprints of Rosa's knuckles against his skin. "But it was intriguing."

"Intriguing or not, if it will not help us rescue Ezio it is best left alone." Rosa said. She reached out for the staff."Let me try."

She screwed her eyes tight shut and touched the staff cautiously. Nothing happened. Gaining confidence, Rosa wrapped her entire hand around the Apple. She waited for a few seconds. "It isn't working."

"Let me try." Leonardo tugged the cloth out from under his hand. He gritted his teeth nervously, waiting for the visions. Nothing happened.

Rosa kicked the staff. "This is useless!"

"I don't think so. It may simply be that we cannot use it correctly." Leonardo pulled the staff away from her foot. "Or its power is fading. Or only Assassins can wield it. There are a hundred explanations, and-"

"And they are all completely useless!"

"I'd agree that there is no point in mulling over them at this precise moment in time."

Rosa flung up her hands. "For once, you and I agree! But what now?"

Leonardo shook his head. He ran through a hundred different inventions in his head, all of them useless. "I don't know," he admitted.

"I could climb the walls." Rosa made a walking motion with her fingers.

"And do what? We don't even know where he is! All it would accomplish is to get you killed. Or captured. I cannot rescue one man, let alone two, and-"

"What of the other Assassins?"

"They would not arrive in time. It's up to us."

Rosa slumped. "Then he is dead." She brightened after a second. "_Maestro_ da Vinci, you're an inventor. Surely you can think of something. How about a device that can break through walls? Kill hundreds of people in a single second?"

"I am a pacifist." Leonardo said morosely.

"I've seen your sketchbooks."

"That is different. My machines must first be built, and even if they were, nobody would dare to use them!"

Rosa kicked one of Ezio's bracers and raised her eyebrows. "Like the hidden blades?"

"A favor for a friend." Leonardo said. In truth, he did not know. " Hmm. A favor." He brightened. "Rosa, there are other ways than these." He stood up to scrabble in his bags. "I have letters-"

"How will they help us?" Rosa said skeptically.

"They're from prospective patrons." He unfolded parchments."I'll visit those in Roma. See if they will help us."

"Will they?"

"I don't know. But I will try." He stuffed a few letters in the pockets of his breeches and unfolded his court-coat. Shrugging it on, he smoothed the velvet. "How do I look?"

Rosa regarded him suspiciously. "Like a painter."

"Then that'll have to do." Leonardo put his chamois jerkin on over the court-coat and turned to leave. "Look after the staff."

Rosa nodded tightly. She nudged the staff with the toe of her shoe so it rolled under the bed. "I'll try to get messages to the thieves. Though I doubt they'll be of much use. I hope that you'll find us a powerful helper, Leonardo. Because we surely need one."

"I'll do my best."

"I hope it works. Time's running out. _Torna presto_."

"_Stammi bene,_" Leonardo said.

He walked down to the street and stood for a moment in the cold wind, buttoning his jerkin and trying to decide which of the names on his list he would visit first. It wasn't a difficult decision, but then it wasn't a long list. Finally he tucked the list into his pocket and headed in the direction of the Vatican.

A few discreet enquiries and a coin or two slipped into the right hands brought him to the doors of Santa Maria del Popolo. It was past Mass. The church was quiet. Leonardo dipped his fingers in the stoup of holy water. Crossing himself, he knelt.

"The time for confessions is past," a voice said from behind him.

Leonardo stood. "Signore de'Medici?"

The young man looked surprised. He had Lorenzo's sharp-featured face but none of his father's pride. In his robes, he looked every inch the devout theologian. "I recognize your face," he said cautiously, then "You-you are the painter."

Leonardo swept his hat from his head. "Leonardo di Ser Piero da Vinci, at your service, sir," he said.

The young cardinal's smile was genuine. "Da Vinci? I've seen your _Saint Jerome. _A masterpiece. And the _Annunciation_. I suppose a commission would be too much to ask for?"

Leonardo shook his head in infinite regret. "I'm here on different business, Father," he said, "You sent me a letter."

The young cardinal looked around nervously. "I think we had better continue this discussion in private, you know,' he said, shepherding Leonardo towards the relative privacy of a side chapel. He started suspiciously at an old woman as she bent to dip her hands into the stoup. "One cannot be too careful, these days."

Leonardo murmured assent. Fingers still damp from the water, he waited under the regal gaze of a magnificent painted angel while Giovanni drew the curtains across the front of the chapel.

"I am sorry to have bothered you," he said diplomatically. "But you see, it is important-"

The cardinal cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Why are you here?' he hissed. "I told you in my letter that may hands are tied. I am not powerful, you know, despite my father."

"I need to help my friend. He did your family a great service once, and- "

Giovanni leant against the marble wall. "It is a pity," he said reflectively, "My father spoke of Ezio. Not often, but with affection and regard. But Rodrigo is the Pope! I cannot stand alone against the Borgias!"

"He is a good man," Leonardo said firmly.

"Then I shall pray for his soul," Giovanni said piously. He gazed up at the stained-glass window with its Cerasi family crest. "Are you religious, _Signore_ da Vinci?"

"I believe," Leonardo said cautiously.

That seemed to be enough for Giovanni. "Remember the fifth commandment. It is a law that my father would have done well to observe. _Thou shalt not kill_." He looked at Leonardo calmly. "Some sins are only redeemable by death."

"You won't get far in Rome with that attitude,' Leonardo said bitterly, "Not when you're up against the Borgias."

"Oh, I know it." the young man said calmly. "But still I soldier on. I have my own plans, and I will not see them jeopardized. Not even for the sake of my father's friend." He looked up at Leonardo from beneath his _zucchetto_. "Besides, your man is as good as dead. The Pope has already sentenced him."

"When?

"Days ago. He was arraigned at the Castel Sant'Angelo." He paused to cross himself. This time his voice was tinged with true regret. "I would help you, if I could. I have great regard for you-and for my family, whatever you might think. But how much power do you think I have? I cannot move against the Pope."

"You talked of commissions," Leonardo said bleakly. "I can paint you wonders."

"No painting is worth that. You'll have to find another way." He untied the velvet curtains, and the light from the stained-glass windows fell on the marble floor of the church once again. "I have helped you as much as I can."

"I am an artist," Leonardo said bitterly."How do you suggest I save him?"

The cardinal shrugged. "God will provide. _Va bene_, Maestro. _Arrivederci_."

"_Arrivederc_i." Leonardo said. He crossed himself once more and left the church, clattering down the marble steps outside with a sour expression and the taste of failure on his tongue, He stood for a minute in the Piazza del Popolo outside, watching the sun set down the via di Ripetta. It would soon be dark.

"Dark times for dark deeds," Leonardo said quietly to himself, and he went to see the Borgias.

_Castel Sant'Angelo._

It was dark.

Ezio sat with his back against the wall and leaned his head against the damp stones. His head ached, and his balance was off. It was easier to sit than stand. Still, he forced himself to think.

He was not sure how long he had spent in the fortress. He could hear sounds from the surrounding cell, and he knew there must be other prisoners. He had not seen any. Just Borgia, and the guards.

Desperation and terror burned under his quiet calm.

I _was a fool. Borgia was right, damn him. I should have killed him while I had the chance_, he thought bitterly. He'd had the Pope helpless and he'd let him go. Borgia would never forgive him for that.

To calm himself he counted breaths, heartbeats, drops of water. There was nothing to mark the days, even if he'd wanted to. The world outside had long since shrunk down to a pinpoint and vanished. He merely existed.

To pass the time he tried to recall details of the Vatican visions. It was slow going. Ezio had never had to train his mind the way he'd trained his body. It felt like those early exercises with Mario had been-grueling and awkward. Still he tried. There was nothing to do except think and wait, and of the diverse subjects available, the visions were the least troubling.

_The gods are not gods._

_The apple and Borgia's staff belong to them. They hold the power to control us-well, all those who are not Assassins. We are immune. So it is our task to keep the objects from the hands of evil men._

_But who is a truly good man? Was Lorenzo a good man? Am I?_

_And the Eden fragment casts illusions. It may very well be lying. But what was the point of lying to me? I didn't understand. I still don't!_

Ezio shook his head. Leonardo would make sense of it. He wondered whether Leonardo had found the Eden fragments yet. He wished he had had time to tell the artist about the visions, but there had barely been enough space on the parchment for the location of the fragments.

So Ezio sat in the dark and he assembled pieces in his mind, painfully aware that he was not suited for this type of work. Rosa would have laughed and called him a _cretino_. Leonardo would have solved the puzzle in seconds and left Ezio wondering why it was so obvious.

He traced patterns on the floor with the fingers of his one good hand and thanked God that he had never been a religious man.

_The gods-are not gods. Those who came before. Before what? Before the Flood? Is everything I was taught just a child's game?_

The woman he'd seen in the vault had called herself Minerva. One of the statues in Monteriggioni's garden was Minerva. Ezio was sure of it. A clue? Or a coincidence? She had mentioned a man called Desmond. A strange name, and not one that Ezio had heard before. Foreign. Landsknecht, maybe.

He worked his fingers under the manacles, trying to cushion the sores that the metal had worn in his skin. It didn't work.

Ezio would have preferred to die in fresh air and sun, rather than here, deep in the bowels of a tomb. But the past twenty years had taught him that a man rarely chose the way of his death.

_I still have questions..._he muttered, uncertain if he had spoken out loud. His body ached. Maybe it was an illusion. He had long known that the Apple created illusions. Maybe none of it was true. Maybe all of it was.

_At least the artifacts are safe..._

Borgia had not yet got what he wanted. He would be back. Ezio was sure of it.

And next time, he would fight.

_Trastevere, Roma._

Leonardo reached Vannozza dei Cattanei's house just before ten. The surrounding district was quiet, but he could see the light of flickering braziers through the garden trellis and hear music and laughing drifting through half-open windows. The Pope's mistress kept late hours. Tonight she would be celebrating her favorite son's return.

Leonardo knocked on the door. "I need to see the Duke of Valentinois," he said politely to the servant who opened it.

The man looked down his nose at him. "His lordship is busy," he said, and would have slammed the door in Leonardo's face if his boot hadn't been firmly wedged in the jamb.

"My name is Maestro Leonardo da Vinci." Leonardo told him. "And-"here he waved Cesare's letter-"he _will_ see me."

The servant narrowed his eyes, but he let Leonardo into the hallway. "Wait here," he said, and bustled off.

Leonardo surveyed his surroundings as he waited. The decorations were tasteful, and more expensive then they looked. Paintings of the Madonna and Child decorated the walls. Lute music drifted from the inner rooms. Peering along the corridor, Leonardo glimpsed a pair of glittering courtesans wearing half-masks in the Venetian fashion. They danced like butterflies across the hallway and out of sight. Leonardo found himself wondering how best to replicate the meticulous knotwork of their hair in paint.

"Signore?"

Leonardo startled. The servant bowed deeply and beckoned. "This way."

He was shown into a small sitting room with a roaring fire. The room was so quiet he thought it empty until he crossed the floor to see the view out of the high-arched windows and found Cesare Borgia sitting quietly in a high-backed chair with a hand on his pointed chin.

"Maestro da Vinci," he said. "It is so good to see you. A surprise, admittedly, but a pleasant one."

Leonardo bowed deeply. As he did so he recalled all the stories the Romans told about Cesare Borgia. They spun tales of drunken duels, of orgies, of drug-fuelled excesses. They said that he'd slit his brother's throat out of jealousy, weighted the corpse with stones and thrown it in the Tiber. Leonardo could believe it.

He straightened and found Cesare staring at him with eyes as dark as jet.

The duke gestured to the servant. "Leave us."

The servant bowed and withdrew. There was no sound except the crackling of the fire.

"Sit down." The duke gestured with a ring-studded hand. Gems gleamed in candlelight.

Leonardo sat.

"I don't understand why you are here," Cesare said pleasantly. "I wrote to you some six months ago with my enquiry. I received no reply."

"Indeed. I am so sorry. It was a difficult time."

The duke smiled, sharp as a blade in moonlight. "It is no matter," he said insincerely, "I take it that you have changed your mind?"

Dry-mouthed, Leonardo nodded. "I need your help," he said.

"Interesting." Cesare rose from the chair. He poured himself a glass of wine from a carafe and offered it to Leonardo. Leonardo, who had heard the stories about the Borgia and their poisons, declined. Cesare did not seem to take offence. He returned to his chair, glass in hand. "What is it that you need?"

"I seek to make a bargain."

"Really? What do you have that I need?" He glanced around the sumptuous room.

"I-you-You need my skills."

"I think not, painter." Cesare said. He lounged back in his chair. "I have pictures. Besides, I've heard of your reputation. You do not work quickly, and I am a most impatient man."

"I was not offering paintings."

One elegant eyebrow lifted. "Do continue."

"I am an engineer, my lord. I can contrive an infinite variety of machines. Ones no other man could conceive, let alone build. I have methods for making very light and strong bridges, a method for destroying any fortress, even if it is founded on solid rock. Siege weapons. Vessels. Tanks. I can do anything that is possible to do. And it is all yours if you agree to help me."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I walk away."

"And sell your secrets to the highest bidder?" Cesare's voice was steel edged with velvet. "I could make you tell me," he said, so calmly that it chilled Leonardo's blood.

Leonardo did not doubt that he could. "I don't do my best work under pressure," he pointed out.

Cesare toyed with his rings. "You'd be surprised." He glanced up at Leonardo and smiled. "I bet you haven't tried."

"There is no need for threats. I simply need to make a bargain."

Cesare smiled. "Tell me," he said.

"In return for my help," Leonardo said carefully, "I need your father's seal."

He had the pleasure of watching Cesare's face turning completely blank and wondered what the young duke would do with the new piece of information. In all the things he'd heard about Cesare, he hadn't heard that the duke was terribly subtle. He'd have preferred to bargain with the Medici, but there had been no choice. The Medici were businessmen. The Borgia-well, who knew what they were?

"My father's seal," Cesare said meditatively. "I would have to want your machines very badly."

Leonardo shrugged. "There is nothing like them."

"And if I betray my father for your toys? What will you do with your prize?" He looked speculative. 'I am dependent on my father's good will. I would not wish anything untoward to happen to him."

"On the contrary," Leonardo said. 'If anything, it will prolong his life."

The duke looked skeptical. "I'm listening."

Leonardo told him.

Author's Note:

I don't think anyone reads these bits anyway but guys, thanks for all the reviews! I have 2000 hits which is a record for me! This is the fourth of six chapters, so there will be more. Enjoy.

UPDATE; I HAVE MORE FANART! Chapter Four illustration is called 'I don't do my best work under pressure' and is posted on my livejournal under the name xahra99 at .

Enjoy.

Anyway;

_Torna presto_: Come back soon

_Stammi bene_: Take care

Vannozza dei Cattanei was Rodrigo Borgia's mistress and mother of his children. Cesare was probably his second son, depending on who you read. One of his titles was Duke of Valentinois. After his brother was assassinated in 1497, there were widespread rumors that Cesare had him killed out of jealousy, but they probably weren't true. He had a nasty reputation, and was a bit of a Magnificent Bastard.

Giovanni de'Medici did go on to become Pope Leo X. He was supposed to have said 'Since God has given us the Papacy, let us enjoy it' to his brother when he heard that he'd been picked. He used to travel around Rome at the head of a parade featuring panthers, jesters and Hanno, a white elephant. Popes ain't what they used to be.


	5. Chapter 5

_Only the Devil Laughed_

_An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99_

_Chapter Five._

"This is _ridiculous_," Rosa hissed.

Leonardo was inclined to agree with her. He quickened his pace instead, ignoring a whispered curse from Rosa. The thief trailed behind, dressed in boy's garb as Leonardo's apprentice. She was bogged down with sketchbook, drawing-board, pencils, ink-stone and brushes.

"Why do I have to carry everything?"

"Because you are the apprentice and that is what apprentices do. And, more importantly it is what the guards will expect. Now be quiet, and let me do the talking."

"_Vaffanculo_!" Rosa swore, but she shut up.

The guards eyed the pair suspiciously as they approached the entrance. "No visitors."

"I am expected. I have a letter." Leonardo said. He held the letter out to the guard, who regarded the letter with even more suspicion than he had the painter. He summoned his captain. The captain regarded the letter with distrust. He slid one finger under the paper to crack the Pope's seal.

Rosa held her breath. Leonardo didn't bother to. The letter was a masterpiece of the forger's art. He spoke the words silently under his breath as the guard read the document.

_I, Rodrigo Borgia of Valencia, by the grace of God His Holiness Pope Alexander, sixth of that name, Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, etc, also servant of the Servants of God, to all our lieutenants, castellans, captains, soldiers and subjects to whom this notice is presented. We order and command that the bearer hereof, our most excellent and well-beloved subject and artist Leonardo da Vinci, who by our commission is to survey the fortresses of our states, should be provided with all such assistance as the occasion demands and his judgment seems fit._

The guard looked up. "Da Vinci? This you?"

Leonardo bowed deeply. Rosa did not move. He hissed "Bow!' from the corner of his mouth as he straightened.

Rosa managed a shallow bob. Leonardo hoped the gesture would be put down to the heavy load of equipment she carried rather than any lack of deference. "I hoped to inspect the castle's spiral ramp," he said, "I have heard it is a marvel of engineering. And maybe view the city from the ramparts, for good measure." He gestured at Rosa. "I plan to make some sketches. I hope I am not intruding?"

The guard looked as if he would very much like to say yes. He looked at Leonardo again, and then down at the letter. Leonardo hoped that Borgia's reputation for dealing harshly with anyone who crossed him extended to servants as well. "I-"

"Marvelous! We won't be long."

The guard looked nonplussed, a common reaction when dealing with Leonardo. "Wait! Where did you say you were planning to sketch?"

"I had heard that the second level is a remarkably well-preserved piece of architecture."

The guard beckoned to a pair of soldiers. "You'll need an escort."

Leonardo smiled.

The soldiers trailed Leonardo and Rosa up to the second floor. Leonardo had never been inside the Castel Sant'Angelo before-few people did who were in a condition to appreciate it-and he found it fascinating.

"This was the tomb of the ancient Roman Emperor Hadrian," he lectured Rosa as they walked."Notice the brickwork. The Romans really were the most amazing architects."

Rosa rolled her eyes. The guards exchanged bored glances under the brim of their helmets. Leonardo ducked under a low arch and climbed a steep ramp towards the centre of the mausoleum. He paused by the side of the ancient studded door that led to the second-floor dungeons and beckoned to Rosa. "Yes-I think this is it. The light, if you please."

Rosa let her burden slide to the floor with a grateful sigh. She brought the oil-lamp closer and began to set up Leonardo's easel and sketching-stool. Leonardo watched the play of shadows and lamplight on the vaulted ceiling. He beckoned to one of the guards. "Fetch me a cup of water."

The guard looked uncertain. "Why-"

"For the paints, of course!" Leonardo nodded to Rosa, who held out a small terracotta mug. "My apprentice will go with you. I am most exacting, as he will tell you."

"But-"

Leonardo flourished the letter. "Do you see that?" he said cheerfully as he pointed at the last line. "'_We order and command that the bearer hereof, our most excellent and well-beloved subject and artist Leonardo da Vinci,' (_That is me) '_who by our commission is to survey the fortresses or our states, should be provided with all such assistance as the occasion demands and his judgment seems fit_.' All such assistance, soldier." He cocked his head. "Unless you wish to take the matter up with the Pope yourself?"

The man managed a shaky salute. "No, _maestro_." He set off down the ramp, holding the cup gingerly, as if he thought it might shatter. Rosa trailed him like a shadow.

_So far, so good_, Leonardo thought.

He sketched a quick drawing of the ramp and arched doorway to pass the time. When he came to draw the dungeons door he paused and asked the guard "What's through there?"

The guard was quick to answer. "That? That is the prisons."

"Marvelous! Can I view them?"

"I'm not-"

"It's said that they're remnants of the original Roman mausoleum." Leonardo idly drew a perfect circle on the parchment.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the dungeons are out of bounds." The guard swallowed, obviously fearing Leonardo's displeasure.

"No matter." Leonardo said. _It was worth a try_, he thought. He added detail to his sketch.

"Maestro?"

Leonardo looked up. "_Si_?'

The guard leaned his pike against the wall. He peered over Leonardo's shoulder at the sketches. "_Dio_! You really are as talented as they say."

"God has blessed me," Leonardo said modestly.

"Did you really want to see the dungeons?"

"It would be interesting," Leonardo said. He waved a hand. "But if it is truly forbidden, I would not wish to inconvenience you."

The guard shrugged. He scratched at the back of his neck. "I dare say I could let you in. Just a quick look. But if it's not too much trouble, me and the wife are expecting our second soon, and I was wondering-"

Leonardo nodded encouragingly. He approved of free enterprise in all of its guises.

"-if you could sketch the baby's portrait. When it comes. And I could give you just a quick look at the dungeons."

Leonardo swept a deep bow, not the easiest gesture from his stool. "_Messire_, I would be honored."

He looked around as the second guard came clanking up the slope. A terracotta mug of water was cupped in one gloved hand.

"Where's the apprentice?"

The guard shrugged. "He's in the privy." If his voice was slightly higher than previously and his armor less well fitting, then his companion did not notice.

"I told this gentleman-" the soon-to be proud father started. He did not get to finish the sentence. Rosa set the cup down, stepped forwards and hit the guard hard. He crumpled to the floor and she pushed up her helmet.

"He was going to let us in!" Leonardo said.

Rosa shrugged. "Stick with the plan." She tugged the fallen guard's helmet off. "Put this on. He looks about your size."

She was wrong. Leonardo tugged the armor on quickly, fastening breastplate and pauldrons over his doublet. His beret padded out the helmet, but the gloves were hopeless. So was the gorget. They stowed them away in a side room with Leonardo's equipment and hoped they would not be noticed.

"Hurry," Rosa hissed. She looked Leonardo critically up and down. 'You'll do. But let me do the talking."

Leonardo was happy to defer to Rosa in all matters martial."Yes, Rosa."

"And, Leonardo?"

"Rosa?"

"At least _try_ to look threatening."

Leonardo picked up the fallen guard's pike. It felt heavy and alien in his hands. They pushed open the door.

Inside, a small corridor lined in herringbone brickwork led to a small anteroom. Two guards sat on duty.

Leonardo nodded to Rosa. The thief produced a second letter from her mail.

The nearest guard looked up."Your business, soldiers?"

Rosa handed over the letter wordlessly. The Pope's seal was a powerful ally. The soldier blanched as he cracked the wax.

The second letter was shorter and less formal.

_Rodrigo Borgia of Valencia, by the grace of God His Holiness Pope Alexander, sixth of that name, commands that the prisoner known as Ezio Auditore da Firenze be brought to us, immediately and with no delay, for questioning and execution._

Leonardo held his breath.

The guard read the letter twice over and handed it back to Rosa. "He's down there." He jerked his heard to a narrow iron door. 'We'll accompany you?'

Rosa nodded. Leonardo's heart sank. He had hoped that they would avoid further combat. The guard unlocked the door with a heavy iron key and they descended into Hell.

The cells were at the bottom of a narrow stair. There were only five doors, but they were unpleasant enough. Screams echoed from behind the first door. The sound was enough to almost but not quite muffle the low helpless moaning that slipped between the cracks of the second cell. A series of soft rhythmic thuds echoed from behind the third door, as if a prisoner was smacking his head against the wall. Leonardo winced. He had been imprisoned once, in Firenze, and he had absolutely no wish to repeat the experience.

The guards stopped at the last door. Another key was produced, and the door was unlocked and opened.

Leonardo heard Ezio before he saw him. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He heard labored breathing and a choked cough, quickly muffled.

The guard rattled the door. "On your feet," he called, "The Pope's changed his mind." He brought the oil lamp closer and Leonardo saw Ezio.

The Assassin stood at one side of the cell, leaning against the stones as if he would fall if he moved. He was filthy. His hair had pulled loose from its tail and tangled along his jaw. It nearly hid the bruises that dappled the left hand side of his face. For once, he looked every one of his forty years. "I have nothing more to tell him, _bastardi_."His voice was weary.

The guard gestured. "Get out."

Ezio shook his head. "Come and get me,' he said, doggedly defiant.

The guard's caution belied Ezio's ragged appearance. He gestured at Leonardo and Rosa. "You go."

Leonardo didn't even think. He forgot about his helmet and the borrowed armor. He handed Rosa his pike and walked into the cell. The door was low. Leonardo ducked his head to enter and Ezio was on him before he had time to look up.

He'd know Ezio was fast. He hadn't known _how_ fast.

The Assassin crossed the room in two steps. He jabbed his thumb into the heel of Leonardo's hand. Leonardo yelped. He dropped the pike. The weapon clattered to the floor. Ezio leaned all of his weight against Leonardo's throat. The gorget that would have protected him had been left behind with his artists' materials. Leonardo couldn't talk. He couldn't breathe.

"Ezio!" Rosa called urgently. "It's us!"

Ezio's head snapped around. The pressure on Leonardo's throat slackened and he took a greedy, grateful breath.

The guards frowned, startled by the unfamiliar and high-pitched voice coming from under Rosa's helmet. "What?''

Ezio jabbed his head at the other two guards. "Those?"

Leonardo shook his head.

Rosa had kept her mailed gloves. She punched the closest guard in his solar plexus. The guard doubled over.

Ezio shoved Leonardo aside and leapt on the other guard. He slammed his wrist up under the rim of the guard's helmet, knocking it from his head. Leonardo caught a glimpse of a pale face and dark, startled eyes before Ezio backhanded the guard. The metal bracelets of the manacles he wore caught the guard hard and his head snapped back. Ezio brought his knee up between the guard's legs. The man gasped and dropped his pike. Ezio snatched the weapon before it hit the ground and smacked the guard across the jaw with the flat of the blade so hard that Leonardo heard his teeth snap together. The guard staggered against the floor. Ezio brought the blade of the pike around and cut his throat.

Leonardo watched dark blood spray across the wall and thought _Dio mio, he's dead._

Rosa looked up from the floor, teeth bared and a naked sword in her hand. A pool of blood stained the floor under the body of her fallen opponent.

Leonardo was familiar with dead bodies. He had even seen people die, but never such a violent death as this.

He removed his helmet and swallowed convulsively, trying not to throw up.

"_Come stai_?"somebody asked

Leonardo looked up. Ezio crouched beside him. The Assassin looked terrible.

"I should be asking you that." Leonardo felt ashamed."And you?"

"I'll live." Ezio said briefly. He touched Leonardo's shoulder and looked up at Rosa, who was busily looting the corpses. "_Grazie, amici_."

"_Niente_, Ezio." Leonardo took a deep breath and tried to stand. The smell drifting from the open door of the cell nearly made him lose his lunch again, but he managed.

"Speak for yourself," Rosa said tartly. "You owe me many favors."

Ezio smiled, but it turned to a wince. He held up a hand. Leonardo saw the deep grooves the manacles had worn in his wrists. "Get these things off me."

Leonardo looked over at Rosa, who shook her head. "No."

"Rosa, _prego,_"

"No. We cannot hide you as well." Rosa held out Ezio's bracers. "Here. Put these on. They may come in useful. Although you do not look in any condition to fight."

"_Grazie mille,_" Ezio buckled the first bracer. "You are no more polite than the last time I met you, Rosa."

"And you no better looking," Rosa retorted.

"How did you get in? And, more importantly, what plan do you have to get us out?"

Rosa and Leonardo exchanged a glance. Ezio looked from face to face.

"Please tell me you have a plan?"

"We do," said Leonardo. "Everything will reveal itself, in time. But now, we must hurry." He recoiled from the bracer that Ezio held out to him as if it was a snake."I already have a weapon."

"I need you to fasten the straps."

Leonardo looked puzzled. Ezio held up his right hand by way of explanation. The fingers were twisted and wrapped round with little pieces of cloth torn from Ezio's shirt.

"Borgia?" Leonardo carefully felt the joints.

Ezio winced. "Borgia."

"Broken?"

Ezio shook his head. "Dislocated," he said. "I'll heal. Can't move it well, though."

"Quickly! _Sbrigati_!" Rosa glanced warily at the door. "We must hurry!"

Leonardo ignored her. He secured the second bracer around Ezio's wrist," Rosa said you'd been injured when they caught you," he said as he laced the thongs.

"You'll both be injured if you don't hurry up!" Rosa snarled. She paced a few steps along the passageway, stood on her tiptoes and peered into the fourth cell.

Ezio lifted his shirt to show a star of half-healed scar tissue. "I managed to find a doctor before I was captured." His smile twisted. "A mixed blessing."

Leonardo regarded the scar critically. "You've been lucky," he said. "The wound's mended well. It seems that imprisonment is possibly the only way to make you stay still enough for injuries to heal. The Spaniard may have saved your life."

"I doubt that was his intention." Ezio flicked his wrist. The blade slid out and he nodded in satisfaction.

"I think he _was_ saving your life," Leonardo snatched his helmet and the pike up from the floor."For later."

"You're lucky the _bastardo_ liked to play with his food," Rosa said.

"Unluckily for him, I don't. I _will_ kill him next time," Ezio said, as matter as factly as if he was discussing the setting of a meal. He reached out for Leonardo's pike. "You're holding it the wrong way up."

"Wait!" This time it was Rosa. She wrenched the key from the lock of Ezio's cell and walked to the next door. "

Ezio frowned. "Rosa, you just said that we must hurry. If they find us, they'll kill us."

"_Dio_! Tell me something I did not already know!" Rosa hissed. She wrenched the door open and held the lamp high. "But this is something I think you should see."

The door swung open. They peered inside.

There, sitting on a low bench with a cloak thrown over her black dress and straw in her hair, was Caterina Sforza.

Author's Note:

I HAVE MORE FANART! Chapter Five's illustration is titled 'Ezio shoved Leonardo aside and leapt on the other guard' and can be found at my livejournal under the name xahra99 or visited via this elegant and finely crafted link. .

_Prego_: Please.

_Vaffanculo_: Fuck you.

_Sbrigati!_: Hurry!

Leonardo's forged letters are adapted from a contemporary document. The Castel Sant'Angelo is indeed an ancient Roman mausoleum. It is very cool and I wish I'd taken more photos when I visited it two years ago. Leonardo did indeed sketch it, but it from the outside, and he didn't visit Rome until early 1501.


	6. Chapter 6

_Only the Devil Laughed_

_An Assassin's Creed 2 fan fiction by xahra99_

_Chapter Six._

_Castel Sant'Angelo.1500. _

Caterina looked up as the door creaked open. Despite her situation, she didn't look half as surprised as Leonardo felt. "_Salute_, Ezio," she said dryly, and that was that. She didn't even glance at Leonardo or Rosa. With her right hand she reached up and disentangled a piece of straw from her still-red hair. "I must look-"

Ezio took her hand. He flicked the straw away so that it fell into the darkness. "You look beautiful, _amoro mio_."

"Ezio, you're a liar. Charming, but a liar," She paused. "I always liked that about you."

"Come on," Rosa hissed. She glanced nervously down the corridor. "Get her out and let's _go_."

Both Ezio and Caterina ignored her. Leonardo, watching, thought that the quality of the light and the intensity of emotion displayed on both their faces would have made an interesting painting if they weren't so filthy.

"I never thought I'd see you in here," Caterina said." I thought you were too smart to get caught."

"Likewise," Ezio replied, then, "I swear to you; I did not know that you were here. I heard that Cesare was in Imola, but I never dreamed...If only I'd known. I would have come to help."

"I know you would, love."

"Giovanni?"

"Safe in Firenze with de'Medici." Caterina's eyes narrowed, blue irises shifted to amber in the dim light. Shadows played upon her face. Leonardo could see why they called her the Tiger of Forli.

"_Grazie a Dio._" Ezio already held one of Caterina's hands. Now he reached out for the other. "Quickly. We have to go. We have to go _now_."

Caterina shook her head. "No."

"_Che cazzo stai dicendo_? You're coming," Ezio snapped.

"Milady?" Leonardo asked cautiously. "Please?" He edged the door open invitingly, although the grim corridor was only inviting in contrast to the tiny dank cell.

Caterina folded her arms and sat back down on the bench. "I am not going. I will not live as a fugitive."

"Caterina, this is no time for pride-"

"She says she doesn't want to come. If we don't leave soon we'll _all _stay here!" Rosa interjected.

Leonardo sighed.

Caterina shook her head. "I will not lose Forli to that _bastardo _Cesare. My children will have their inheritance." She looked pointedly at Ezio. "And yours, too."

"You can fight him from the _city_! There's no sense to this!"

Caterina stared defiantly at Ezio. "They have treated me well. Better than they have treated you, anyway. I occupied this castle once. I will walk out of it again with my head held high."

"Caterina-"

"Ezio, _no_. Now go! If you tarry they will catch you, and I have no wish to see you killed. And they will probably execute me too, for having helped you," she added practically.

Ezio hesitated, one hand on the door jamb. He looked very much like he would have preferred to throw Caterina over his shoulder and carry her out of the fortress. "_Caro, ti amo con tutto il mio cuore_."

"Should you ever find yourself in the city of Forli, it would be my pleasure to welcome you, _amoro mio_."

"I look forwards to enjoying your hospitality," Ezio said, with the ghost of a smile.

Leonardo would remember the look in Caterina's eyes as they locked her cell door until the end of his life.

As Rosa turned the key, he heard a scuffle from the cell. Caterina Sforza's voice whispered softly from behind the door. "Ezio?"

"Caterina?"

"Kill Cesare Borgia." Her voice was quiet but very intense. "Kill him _slowly_."

Ezio's smile was savage. "Yes, my love."

_Oh dear_, Leonardo thought.

He very carefully didn't say anything as they carried the two guards into Ezio's cell. Leonardo and Rosa picked up the two guards from the hallway and locked them in with the rest of Leonardo's painting equipment.

Leonardo checked all of the guards carefully for injuries before they closed the door. He paid special attention to the guard with the child. "Are you sure that this is right? I'm worried about this man's head wound. It looks deep."

"I hope so." Ezio kicked the last guard in the groin as Rosa deposited him on the floor. The man groaned and shifted. "See? They're fine."

"But..."

"Trust me, this is nothing compared to what they'll do to _us_ if they catch us."

"What?"

Ezio told him. Leonardo wished he hadn't.

They clattered down the corridor in a small group until they reached the ramp. Rosa scuffed at a smear of blood with the toe of her shoe. They looked up and down the ramp cautiously, but the way was clear. Leonardo clutched his pike in his left hand and took Ezio's arm in his right glove. Rosa pulled her helmet down over her face. Ezio glanced from masked face to masked face. "What's the plan?"

"You'll see," Rosa hissed. "Just try and act like a prisoner."

Leonardo swallowed as they marched down to the courtyard. His palms were slick with sweat under his gloves. But the genuine guards they met on the way down to the courtyard didn't even stop. Rosa and Leonardo were in uniform and therefore unnoticeable, while Ezio was in chains and therefore officially somebody else's problem.

They crossed the courtyard to the forge. There was a small queue of two of three prisoners, which Leonardo ignored. He walked right to the front; Rosa trailing reluctantly behind him. Ezio staggered along in between them.

Leonardo flourished the Pope's letter at the bemused blacksmith. "Strike this man's chains. Now."

"But-"

"I have a signed letter from His Holiness!" Leonardo held it out.

The blacksmith took the letter and read it slowly. His lips moved over the complicated parts. Finally he looked up and handed the letter, complete with smudged charcoal, back to Leonardo. "Right, but-"

"Does he look like he's going to be a threat to anyone?" Leonardo darted a glance at Ezio, who groaned theatrically.

"-there is a queue, you see, and-"

Leonardo gestured imperiously. He'd copied the gesture from the Duke of Milan. "Quickly! The Pope is waiting!"

The threat of Borgia did the trick. The blacksmith picked up his hammer. "Right then," he said, and moved towards the forge. 'Sorry, mates," he said over his shoulder to the assembled line. "Pope's orders."

The work took a few minutes, but it seemed like an hour. Ezio did not move as the chains fell free. One of the soldiers wrapped a few lengths of rope around his wrists. Rosa stood hunched over, as if she expected a crossbow bolt to bury itself between her shoulder blades at any moment. The smith tossed the chains onto a pile and turned to the next prisoner, and they walked away.

It was easy as that.

Leonardo handed the letter to the guards at the inner courtyard, who waved him through without a second glance. They strolled unquestioned towards the outer, last gateway and Leonardo produced the letter.

The sergeant in charge perused the document suspiciously. "I haven't seen you before," he said to Rosa.

"No, sir! New, sir!" Rosa rapped in a credible approximation of a boy's treble.

The sergeant turned to Leonardo. "I recognize you, though," he said crisply."Teaching the lad the ropes, are you?"

Leonardo couldn't think of what else to do, so he saluted. "Permission to leave, sir? I heard the Pope wants to see him right away."

The guard paused. He scrutinized the document as if willing an error. "No chains, soldier?"

Leonardo shook his head. Beside him, he heard Rosa's sharp intake of breath.

"Good job!" the sergeant said approvingly. "Those bastards at the Vatican never give them back. Very well. You may go." He addressed Ezio. "Burn in Hell, assassin. I hope Borgia takes his time with you."

"_Tua madre si da per niente_." Ezio muttered.

The sergeant drew his breath in sharply. Rosa stepped forwards and punched Ezio hard under his ribs. Ezio doubled over, spitting curses, and Rosa saluted. "Sorry about that, sir,"

The guard drew back. "Indeed." He frowned. "Where does the Pope want him taken? I'll send an escort."

"We'll be fine, sir." Leonardo said, trying to project an aura of confidence and authority.

It did not work. "Where are you taking him?"

Leonardo floundered. The most obvious answer would have been the Vatican, but it was on the same side of the river as the Castel Sant'Angelo. The roads between the two buildings were heavily guarded. That would not do.

Rosa cut in. "To the Palazzo Farnese_,_ sir. On the Pope's orders."

Leonardo exhaled. The Palazzo Farnese belonged to the brother of the pope's current mistress. More important, it was a good distance away, and it was on the opposite side of the river. There was plenty of time for them to lose an escort in the streets .

The sergeant gestured to a pair of soldiers. "You'll take Giovanni and Paulo, then." It wasn't a question.

Leonardo saluted. "Yes, sir."

They trailed across the Ponte Sant'Angelo and into the streets of the Eternal city with the soldiers on their heels. Most of the shops were closed for the siesta. The streets were quiet. Despite the calm surroundings, Leonardo felt jumpy and tense. The soldiers, in contrast, chatted quietly as they walked behind. One of them shoved Ezio a couple of times between the shoulders when he stumbled, but he didn't retaliate, and they did nothing more.

Leonardo tried to take stock of their surroundings without looking suspicious. He passed a number of likely alleys and semaphored the fact to Rosa with a combination of raised eyebrows and whispers. The thief just rolled her eyes and gestured to Leonardo to shut up.

When the attack came it took him entirely by surprise. They turned a corner and crossed below a row of narrow, overhanging houses.

"This isn't the way to the Palazzo Farnese," one of the guards objected.

Rosa spun and stabbed him in the chest. Her aim was poor and the point of her knife skidded from his armor. Leonardo let go of Ezio's arm. He waved his pike in what he thought was a threatening manner.

"Don't come any closer!"

Ezio held up his hands and Rosa sliced through the ropes that bound his wrists. The guards looked a little less confident. They lunged. The right hand guard went for Rosa, who was armored and must have looked more of a treat. The second one went for Leonardo.

Leonardo blocked the first blow more by luck than judgment. The guard cursed and slashed again. Leonardo jumped back. All of his attention was focused on the soldier's sword. He could hear curses and the chime of metal on metal as Rosa fought the other guard, and then there was silence.

The guard paused. "Bloody hell," he cursed, as he turned on his heel to run. "I don't get paid enough for this."

Ezio's thrown knife took the guard in the back of the neck before he had run five paces. He sagged to the ground. Leonardo lowered his pike. A complicated mix of relief and guilt warred in his chest. "He was running away!"

"Leonardo-" Ezio walked to the corpse and retrieved his knife. He wiped the bloody blade on the dead man's breeches.

"You don't understand," Rosa said furiously. "Think. He would have run right back to the Castel and told his superiors, and then the guards would be after us rather sooner than expected."

"I see-'

"No, you don't. It was them or us, Leonardo, and –"

"Hush." Ezio rejoined them. "Get rid of your armor here. It'll be stolen soon enough." He turned to Leonardo. "Are you all right?"

Leonardo nodded mutely. He struggled out of his armor while Ezio leant against the wall and rubbed his wrists. They left the armor in the alley with the corpses and strolled off, chatting like everyone else for the benefit of any watchers.

"We made it!" Rosa exulted. She punched Ezio in the ribs again and looked surprised when he winced. "What's the matter?"

Ezio rubbed his side. "You hit me!"

"I had to make it look real. You deserved it, for not telling me about the Sforza woman. Now calm down, cretino." Rosa elbowed him in the ribs. "'We're not there yet. We've got to get indoors."

Ezio looked at the shops and lodging-houses around them suspiciously. "Where?"

Leonardo pointed at the thief, who swept a mock-curtsey, incongruous in her trousers. "Rosa's found us a safe-house."

"For now." Rosa smiled. "We must leave Roma, though, and soon," She pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger. "_Dio_, I wish we had time for you to bathe. But we have fresh clothes waiting. And horses. The _Roma_ Guild owes Antonio many favors." She wrapped an arm around Ezio's shoulder. "So, Sforza?"

"Yes."

"She's married."

"Was, she _was_ married. Three times, in fact. And I did know about that."

"Any other children I don't know about?"

"No."

"I _am_ surprised." Rosa slipped an apple from a stall as they passed.

So was Leonardo. He would have wagered that the Assassin family tree had sprouted several new branches in Ezio's generation.

"Why didn't you marry her?" Rosa quizzed. She polished the apple on her sleeve and handed it to Ezio, who bit into the fruit hungrily.

"I did ask," he said in between bites, "She told me she'd make a terrible wife. Mind you, I'd make an even worse husband." He swallowed. "She was right to refuse."

Rosa snorted.

"I saw my family _killed_, Rosa, Do you think I'd wish that on anybody? No. This way is better. And I-I am not my father."

"_Certamente_," Rosa smirked. She looked both ways and turned abruptly left into an alley. "This is the place."

The safe house turned out to be a small room over a painter's shop. There were mattresses on the floor and a long bag propped in one corner, which contained the Eden fragments. Ezio checked them with care. "I knew you'd find them."

"Of course." Rosa produced bread and cheese and a covered flask of wine. She tore the loaf into three unequal parts and passed the largest portion to Ezio. "Eat," she said briefly, "You'll need energy. We've got a long road ahead of us." She lifted one of the mattresses up and pulled out a bundle of clothes. "_Can_ you travel?"

"I'll have to." Ezio said unemotionally. He had finished his portion before Leonardo had even found his palette-knife to divide the cheese. "Where are you going?"

Rosa shrugged. "Back to Venezia. Where else?"

"And you?" Ezio asked Leonardo. Leonardo, involved in cutting his block of cheese into perfectly equal parts, did not hear him. "Leonardo?"

"I have a commission in Ferrara," Leonardo said. Ezio got up to take a bundle of clothes from Rosa. His hand brushed stealthily against the back of Leonardo's doublet as he passed. Leonardo did not notice until Ezio had sat back down on the mattress and unfolded the Pope's letter on his lap. The Assassin held up the parchment. "Where did you get this?"

Leonardo squinted at the seal. "Oh," he said, and looked at Rosa for help. The thief didn't say anything. Leonardo took refuge in honesty. It was a bad mistake. "From Borgia's son, Cesare," he said.

Ezio exploded in a barrage of curses. Leonardo considered them quite impressive. He didn't know the meaning of half of them. Rosa _did_, to judge from her raised eyebrows.

"What did you offer him?"

Leonardo evaded the question. "It was a fair bargain. Nobody else would help us."

Rosa threw up her hands. She glared at Ezio. "Don't blame _him_. Would you rather we had left you to hang?"

"_Leonardo_," Ezio said dangerously.

" Uh. Two things. My expertise in engineering, for one year..."

"You _are_ mad." Ezio snapped, as this was not a new discovery. "Anything else?"

" Yes," Leonardo found that he could not meet Ezio's eyes. "I promised him that you would not kill his father."

Ezio crumpled the letter and flung it into the corner of the room. "I should cut his throat,' he said furiously, "I should cut _both_ their throats."

"Your approach is too simplistic, _cretino_," Rosa said. "There are much better ways to make their lives a misery."

Leonardo's voice was a whisper. "Please don't," he said wretchedly.

"Why not? If I kill Borgia _and_ his son, then your debt is settled."

"Borgia is not a popular man. He is old and he will die before too long and if not somebody will kill him. There are better men to take his place. Lorenzo's son, for one. I _promised_, Ezio. Cesare did help us."

"I'm not ungrateful," Ezio said, in the face of all evidence. "But Cesare...I promised Caterina." He looked more miserable.

"That's her choice," Rosa said heartlessly. "I can't understand why she didn't come with us."

"She's a noble. She'll forfeit the Sforza lands if she becomes a fugitive. As a prisoner, she thinks she's got a chance to regain her holdings-or to secure a pardon. But I think she'll lose Forli."

Rosa frowned. "But you said-"

"I know. But the Borgias have her city now, and with her husband dead..." He tailed off. "They'll set her free. But it will take time. I would not wish that on anyone, let alone Caterina."

'It's what she wanted," Rosa pointed out.

"I know." Ezio said, defeated. He yanked the shirt Rosa had given him on top of his ragged clothes. "I _know_." He looked up. "But what of you? The Borgia know of your involvement. They'll be looking for you."

Leonardo's smile was genuine. "No," he said, "They won't."

"Care to tell me why?"

Leonardo told him.

"Oh, that's good, "Rosa said as she pulled on a disguise of floor-length blue woolen skirts over her men's clothing. "That's very good. But a little more haste, if you please? My friends are waiting."

The thieves met them at one of the livery-stables at the gates. They were small, unobtrusive men, dressed in the dark clothes that the thieves favored. They'd saved horses for them, suspiciously good horses. Leonardo nearly asked where they'd got them from, but he decided against it. He rubbed at the coat of his haughty chestnut mare surreptitiously, but the color did not come off.

They clattered through the gates with no trouble and paused once they were a mile or so outside the city. The sun was setting and the January wind was cold Leonardo shivered. He mourned the loss of his chamois jerkin, but not as much as he mourned the loss of his sketchbooks, abandoned in a cell in the Castel Sant'Angelo.

Rosa circled her horse. "This is where I leave you," she said matter-of factly. "It's a long way to Venezia."

_And nearly as far to Ferrara_, Leonardo thought, but he said "Travel well."

Rosa grinned. "_Grazie_, Leonardo. We'll meet again. In _my_ city, this time. And Ezio, call in at the Thieves' Guild next time you're in Venezia. I have a feeling Antonio might have one or two little favors you could do for him. But try not to get captured again. It creates a great deal of work." She hauled on her horse's reins and drummed her heels against its sides. "_Arrivederci_!"

"She has been of great help," Leonardo said as they watched her grey mare canter towards the east coast and its ports. "I could not have done it without her."

"I don't doubt it. Rosa never changes." Ezio said. He turned his attention back to Leonardo as Rosa's horse vanished. "Where are you headed?"

Leonardo shrugged. "I'll go to the coast. My apprentices will be waiting in Ferrara. Isabella d'Este will not be pleased at having to wait so long for her portrait, but it cannot be helped. I'll travel back to the Romagna later in the year, "He looked sidelong at Ezio, "I promised Cesare."

"You did not have to do that."

"He's just another patron. It's how I make my money. I dare say I've worked for worse."

Ezio said nothing. He just shook his head. His eyes were dark and exhausted. Leonardo wished he wasn't headed for Ferrara. They waited in the cold wind for a long time, while the sun slid towards amber and Leonardo's horse shifted impatiently.

"_Si sta facenda tardi_," he said eventually.

Ezio sighed. "_Arriverderci in cielo_," he said. "Goodbye, old friend."

Leonardo turned his horse. The mare shied at a scrap of rubbish and he wondered-not for the first time-if he would stay on until Ferrara. He looked back at Ezio and realized he'd hardly ever seen the man without his Assassin's garb. "Your armor."

Ezio shrugged. "I'll steal it back. Or maybe my descendants will. It's been around a long time, Leonardo. We'll find it again."

"_Arrivederci_,"

"_Arrivederci_." Ezio called. He kicked his horse. The gelding whinnied and skittered a few steps away, reluctant to leave its companion. Behind him, the sunset caught the seven hills of the city behind them and shone for a moment on what might have been the white dome of St Peter's. Leonardo gave it one last glance before he rode away.

_Apostolic Palace, Il Vaticano_.

The guards had drawn lots to see who would deliver the Pope the news. The losing guard stood with his helmet in his cupped hands and his heart in his mouth as Rodrigo Borgia stamped across the carpet.

"I'll cut his heart out with a _spoon_!"

"No, father," Cesare said calmly. "You won't."

The guard dared to glance upwards. Rodrigo Borgia's eldest son leaned against a priceless fresco of his father praying humbly at the feet of the Christ-child. There was nothing further from the serene expression on the face of the painted Pope than the furious grimace of Rodrigo Borgia at that precise moment.

Rodrigo Borgia hadn't been used to being corrected even before he'd been Pope. Now that he was, his children were the only people who could get away with it.

"_Why not_?"

Cesare produced a stiletto from his pocket and began to clean his fingernails. "Because I need him," he said without looking the Pope in the face. The guard began to sweat. Borgia had a habit of taking his anger out on the nearest available object. As Cesare was not an option, that left him.

"There are a hundred artists in Roma! Why _this_ one?"

Cesare looked up and smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Why Leonardo da Vinci? The man is an unparalleled engineer. I need him alive. And make no mistake, if he dies I _will_ hold you responsible."

The Pope dashed a cut-crystal chalice to the ground in reply. The guard winced as the diamond-hard chips peppered his shins. Cesare brushed a single crystal from the sleeve of his black velvet doublet.

"I'll find the Assassin!" the Pope spat. "I'll cut him down."

Cesare gave a peculiar smile. "I wish you well with that," he said, and gestured to the guard. "You may go."

The guard didn't need to be told twice. He backed out of the room, boots crunching on shattered glass, and fairly ran down the long corridor back to the safety of the guardroom and a clean pair of underpants.

_February 1500, Monteriggioni_.

It had been a long journey.

Ezio slid from his horse at the gates of Monteriggioni. He handed the reins of his mount to a stable hand and slipped through the darkened streets to the villa. Nobody recognized him. To be fair, he didn't know if he would recognize himself.

He evaded the villa guards with ease and slipped into the secret room, the one under the study. It was cool inside, and very quiet. The statues of the fallen Assassins bore silent witness to his entrance. Ezio paused for a moment to say a prayer to whichever god was listening. When he had finished he slid the long bag containing the Eden fragments from his shoulder. A few minute's work with the tip of a blade loosened one of the bricks from the foot of Altair's tomb. Ezio lowered the staff and the apple into the space created, and the fit as easily as if the space had been designed for them. He lowered the slab back into place.

"Sleep well," he said.

The statue did not reply.

Ezio dusted his hands off on his breeches and went upstairs to find his sister and her family.

_1526, Po Valley_

The mercenaries waited on the bank of the Po River. It was a cold November morning, and the river water was frozen at the edges. The breath of men and horses clouded in the air. Bloated bodies floated in the river; victims of the previous day's skirmish. They reminded the young mercenary captain who waited on the riverbank of a gruesome tale he had heard many times of a child; the death of Rodrigo Borgia. The Pope had died twenty-three years previously, in terrible pain and so bloated they'd had to lever him into his coffin. Divine justice, many had said.

The captain's gaze left the river and moved over the vale ahead. The story of the Pope's death left his thoughts almost as quickly as it had arrived. It was not his first battle, and he had many things to consider.

The mercenaries were there to fight for Italy's freedom against the French. More importantly, they were there because they were being paid. It was a good time to be a mercenary. Italy was in turmoil. The Medici Pope and the warring city-states had buried their differences and united against a common foe.

Their captain was only twenty-eight but he was already a skilled _condotteri_ with a young son. He was a handsome man with his mother's blue eyes and his father's dark hair and easy smile. He had chosen to honor his uncle's profession as well as his father's. It was not a decision he regretted.

Giovanni dalle Bande Nere brushed snow from the mane of his horse and gave the order for the advance. The rest of the troops fell in behind him.

Giovanni gestured to the rider at his right hand. "What do you think?"

The captain's second in command wiped snow from his face. "They're outnumbered. They've got their pikes, but we're faster and lighter. I think we'll win."

Giovanni grinned fiercely. "Exactly the conclusion I had come to." He adjusted the fit of the leather bracers nearly hidden beneath his light armor.

His companion looked around at the frozen river, the floating corpses, and the poorly hidden smoke from the Landsknecht's fires. "It's a beautiful day for a fight."

"Indeed," Giovanni said as they rounded a hill and the Landsknecht camp came into view. He lowered his visor and ordered the charge.

Finis.

'Sed diabolus istud irrisist in invidia sua  
intactum dionsit qua nullum opus Dei.'

Only the Devil laughed in scorn of honor

In his envy he left no work of God untouched.

_Sed diabolus_, Hildegard von Bingen.

Author's Notes.

FINAL FANART!

This sixth and last piece is titled 'Sleep well, he said' and can be found under my livejournal under the name xahra99, or via the following link:

.

_Caro, ti amo con tutto il mio cuore: _Darling, I love you with all my heart.

_Tua madre si da per niente: _Your mother gives it away.

_Si sta facenda tardi: _It's getting late

Giovanni dalle Bande Nere was Caterina Sforza's youngest son, and the leader of a famous band of mercenaries. He killed his first man at age twelve and was banned (twice) from the city of Florence for unruly behavior. His son was Cosimo de'Medici, the Grand Duke of Florence, who went some way towards restoring the Medici's reputation.

Caterina Sforza never did regain Forli. She was released from the Castel Sant'Angelo in June 1501 to join her children in Florence, where she lived for the rest of her life.

Cesare Borgia employed Leonardo da Vinci as a military engineer from 1502 to 1503. He lost all his power when his father Rodrigo Borgia died in 1503 and died in 1507 at the siege of Viana.

And a couple of interesting facts that didn't quite make it into this fic; one of Rodrigo Borgia's favorite sports was prostitute racing, where naked women raced each other to collect sweets from the floor, and Lorenzo the Magnificent wrote dirty poems about cucumbers. History. You just can't make this shit up.


End file.
